


Immurement

by Malkuthe



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Atheism, Gay Sex, Immurement, M/M, Religious Themes, Religious debate, Sexuality Crisis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-03-19 14:41:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3613731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malkuthe/pseuds/Malkuthe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>Two households both alike in dignity,<br/>In fair Milan where we lay our scene,<br/>Possessed of power like divinity,<br/>With grandiose wealth between.</p>
  <p>Two children diff'rent as night and day,<br/>One each to these fam'lies belong<br/>But one shall other's trust betray,<br/>And drive his heart to darkest wrong.</p>
  <p>From forth the fatal loins of envious kin,<br/>Whose cov'ting only greed consoles<br/>Come wicked instrument of grievous sin<br/>That cleaves in twain two kindred souls</p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sinful Comforts

**Author's Note:**

> So. Here we go. :3. If you thought _[At the Break of Dawn](http://archiveofourown.org/series/170459)_ was bad you have no idea what you're in for with this story. This was inspired not only in part by Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet" but also by Edgar Allan Poe's "Cask of Amontillado." Get ready to answer really tough questions and read through really tough scenes because shit's going to hit the fan from the beginning. 
> 
> Here's where I'm amping up my angst-venom and if you decide to proceed from here on, I'm going to be sinking my angstmonster fangs into your exposed necks. ;).

_Then the Lord rained upon Sodom and upon Gomorrah brimstone and fire from the Lord out of heaven_  
_— Genesis 19:24_

 

In the city of Milan, the night was calm. The stars twinkled happily in the sky, unperturbed by the cool breeze that swept across its streets and the country around it.

The pale milky light of _la luna_ set aglow wisps of golden hair. These strands were akin to fine-spun gold in the sunlight, but bathed in moonlight, they seemed almost like threads of starlight.

William Solace, partly-prodigal son of British businessman extraordinaire Apollo Solace by his late wife, leaned against a particular window-frame on the third storey of a particular mansion at the edge of the city. He had a smug smirk on his face. He _had_ just managed to scale the side of the manor without waking anyone, after all.

There was another man within, intently reading a tome by the flickering light of a multitude of beeswax candles. As they burned they filled the room with the sweet smell of honey, and William could not help but breathe in the delectable scent.

The man’s eyes flickered to William when the Englishman cleared his throat. The sound of the book slamming shut echoed in the silence of the night. To say that the man had been startled by the appearance of William would be to do ill-justice to the astonishing feat of dexterity that William performed at that moment.

The book which the man had been reading sailed through the air in William’s direction. He gripped the edge of the window-frame with all the strength that he could muster and swung his body back as far as he could.

Much to William’s surprise, as well as to that of the man within, William caught the book in one hand and kept his balance. William looked at the heavy leather-bound tome in his hands, then he glanced at the man within. “ _Buena sera, amore mio, Nicola_ ,” he said, with an English twinge to his voice that he could only hope Nicola would find endearing, “How fares the Bastard Prince of Venice on this fine night?”

A momentary dread settled over Nicola. The way that William spoke the words ‘ _amore mio_ ’ stabbed fear deep into his heart. There was a twinkle in the Englishman’s eyes that said that those words were more than just jest, or simple endearment. They _meant_ something, and Nicola feared that most of all.

In truth, Nicola already felt as though he were committing the most grievous of sins. Lying with another man as he should with a woman. Yet, he could not defy the desires of his flesh. No part of him had ever found women attractive, and thus he’d asked men instead to satisfy the deepest needs of his body.

Nevertheless, all of those that had come before William were meaningless trysts. They were meant merely to alleviate the desire that built within him on his long trips away, serving his father, known to many as the Merchant King of Venice, as a representative.

For a moment, Nicola wondered whether he had gotten himself mired far too deeply with William. He considered telling the Englishman to go home. That their arrangement was over. Yet, despite himself, looking into William’s eyes, he could not bring himself to. There was something fragile in those eyes of blue so similar to the sky that he’d felt the need, from the beginning, to protect.

Nicola felt vexation at himself for being weak, but he could not even begin to consider the consequences of being strong. The mere thought of William being hurt was something that he could not, for some reason yet unknown to him, understand.

As though in response to the turmoil within Nicola, the curtains framing the window billowed inward. The cool wind that was to blame swept into the room and snuffed the candles that yet burned. In moments, the room was plunged into darkness save for the pale light of _la luna_.

In the darkness, Nicola could see clearly the twinkle of mischief in William’s sky-blue eyes. Nicola would have been lying had he said that he did not enjoy that twinkle on most occasions, but on this one, he merely found it frustrating.

Nicola did not like it. He might have, within him, some strange compulsion to protect this man that stood on his window-sill, but it did not change the fact that the flippant way with which William regarded their secret nighttime trysts was all but acceptable.

Nicola di Angelo had been born into the Venetian aristocracy, despite his reputation of being the bastard son of Ade di Angelo, the Merchant King of Venice, wealthy and with a burgeoning trade despite the failings of many of his contemporaries, the man who held Venice in a vice-like grip. Because of his heritage, there was good reason for Nicola to find the matter of reputation, especially his and his father’s, to be of great import.

Nicola, after all, had spent long enough trying to prove to the world that he was more than just a bastard son that bore the name of his great father. He was as much his father’s son as were his half-brothers and sisters. Where his father was a powerful man, he would someday forge a legacy much more powerful.

Perhaps, Nicola mused, things were done differently in Great Britain. The country had, after all, long since wrenched itself from the admittedly vicious clutches of the Church. Nevertheless, no matter how things were done in that nation far across land and sea from Italy, Nicola and William were in Milan.

Here, in Italy, Nicola and William were at the heart of the purview of the Church. Here, they were under the heel of the Papacy, and William’s flippancy could very well get not only himself killed, but also Nicola, and that knowledge did not sit very well with the Bastard Prince of Venice.

Nicola narrowed his eyes when he saw William looking at the floor. Moments later, before he could say anything, William jumped off the window-sill and landed with a loud thud.

Like a tempest, the uncertainty in Nicola was whipped up into a fierce storm. With all the silence that he had no right to have in his fury, Nicola tossed his blankets aside. He rose from his sheets like an olive-skinned spectre of death. He clambered down the side of the bed, footfall stiff but quiet.

Nicola moved across the floor like a ghost. He was silent, but within he was bristling with anger. This was the reason that he despised William’s flippancy at times. It often led to brainless carelessness. William reached outside the window to pull the shutters closed, but he did not get a chance.

Before William could say anything, Nicola had already grabbed him by the thin silken shirt. He pulled the witless Englishman away from the window before shoving him at one of the nearest walls. “ _Idiota!_ ” exclaimed Nicola under his breath, taking one step toward William.

William was taken by surprise by the sudden viciousness of Nicola. He had not expected it, nor could he even begin to think what he could have possibly done to earn the Italian’s ire. William stumbled back, but stopped himself before he hit the wall and caused any more noise.

William took a step forward as well, only to come nearly nose-to-nose with Nicola, who had moved faster than he had expected. So caught up was Nicola in his anger that he completely forgot that William was not Italian by heritage. “ _Vuoi che ci prendano?!_ ” he said, shaking his hand in what was vaguely the direction of the half-closed window.

William’s eyes were fearful, yet they lacked any comprehension of what Nicola was saying. He hadn’t the faintest hope in highest Heaven nor deepest Hell of understanding Nicola’s angry but whispered words. “ _Forse quel fottuto libro avrebbe dovuto colpirti e sbatterti fuori dalla finestra!_ ” said Nicola, stabbing a finger at William’s chest. He gestured again at the window.

While he was afraid of what Nicola was going on about, William could not help but admit to himself, if not to the Italian, that he found Nicola’s anger quite adorable. There seemed to be something endearing about the way that Nicola lost all pretence of calm, though William also had to admit that he could not put a finger on the ‘ _why’_ of the matter.

William was shaken rather literally and rather rudely from his thoughts by Nicola. Nicola had grabbed fistfuls of his loose linen shirt, which he’d worn out of necessity that night, and because it was not too cold. “ _Mi avrebbe risparmiato un sacco di problemi—”_

“— _sciocco insopportabile!_ ” said Nico. He reached up and poked William’s temple repeatedly and rather painfully with his index finger, punctuating each syllable of his words.

William was beginning to feel irate himself. He swatted away Nicola’s affronting hand. Perhaps it was on purpose, but William was certain that Nicola underestimated his own strength. William’s temple hurt.

Nicola had the gall to look incensed at being interrupted from the lecture that he was delivering. He glared at William with exasperation, but the only response he received was a blank, uncomprehending look.

“Nico, Nico,” said William. He was glad to use the name that he had, after many failed attempts at persuasion, _finally_ convinced Nicola to allow him to use. William relished the syllables as they rolled across his tongue and slipped past his lips.

“Nico!” said William, a third time. Nicola hissed at him for raising his voice. He felt heat rise to his cheeks as he smiled apologetically. Nicola was beginning to regret ever allowing William to use that nickname.

“ _Caro mio_!” said William. “I did not understand a single word that you said!” he exclaimed, using the same hushed tone of voice that Nicola had used on him earlier. The one difference was that William found it necessary to stifle a chuckle, his irritation dispelled by the utterly perplexed look on Nicola’s face.

The light of _la luna_ was not much to go by, but William could tell well in the dim glow that Nicola was completely befuddled.

“Ah,” remarked Nicola. Normally, he was confident and collected, silver-tongued and an eloquent master of words despite the tiny number of them that he used. In this, he found his talents failing him.

There was a hint of surprise in Nicola’s voice. It had pushed his anger into a throbbing ball at the back of his mind. It was almost as though he had not realized that he had forgotten to speak in the one tongue common to the both of them.

“Ah, indeed,” said William, daring to crack a smirk. He tried to take a step forward, but Nicola did not budge. His cheekiness earned him nothing but a withering glare from the still-incensed Italian. “ _Caro mio_ ,” he said, only to receive a tap to his cheek. It was not hard enough to cause pain, but the message was clear as day; Nicola was rather uncomfortable with the affection. “If you worry for our secrecy, I can assure you, no mere sound like that can wake the slumbering.”

“And if you worry that on my way here, perhaps I was seen and recognized, I can assure you that none of those who are _still_ awake at this late hour could recognize me.” Nicola raised an eyebrow. William’s claims were worthy of a healthy dose of scepticism, after all.

“Between the darkness of the night and this—” explained William, gesturing up and down at himself. He was wearing an old silken shirt and ratty breeches. Nicola had to admit that it was the sort of fare that neither noble nor commoner would believe the son of Apollo would wear. “—I doubt that there were any that recognized me.”

“Now,” said William, attempting again to take another step forward. He was rebuffed. “Pray, tell, _caro mio_ , what was it you said to me?” he said.

“I was merely…” Nicola’s words faltered as he attempted to grasp for the proper witty thing to say. What he settled on wasn’t necessarily the most pleasant, though he doubted William would have much of a problem with it. Perhaps it was sometimes insulting to be so _patronizing_ , but he did rather enjoy pulling William’s leg, all issue with affection and falling in love with a man aside. He enjoyed it quite _often_. “I was merely expressing my delight to have your company on this fine evening, _bello_ ,” he said.

William could not, despite his efforts, stem the tide of heat that rushed to his face. Nicola, when he spoke in English, spoke it with a twinge of Italian that William found so inexplicably alluring. Perhaps it was the way that it seemed so exotic and strange that he found attractive. He did not know. He did not particularly care to know. All he knew was that he could easily fall asleep to the sound of Nicola speaking English.

It took a moment for William to gather his wits about him, but when he finally did, he decided to be more _forward_. Because it seemed that Nicola was not about to budge from where he stood, William decided to do the next best thing. He wound his free arm around Nicola’s waist and pulled the Italian closer.

Nicola raised an eyebrow at William, but William merely ignored him. “Oh yes,” said William, in as dry a voice as he could muster. It was often the sarcastic tone that Nicola used against him, so he saw no fair reason why not to use the same. “I believe you,” he said.

William, truth be told, was delighted to join in this verbal sparring that Nicola had initiated. It was a duel of wits that left his cerebral needs more than satisfied. It was a dance that he and Nicola often danced, and one that William was becoming more and more proficient at with the passing of the days.

Sarcasm was evident as day in William’s voice, though that was entirely the point. “For delight,” he said, seemingly musing out loud, “is something that one expresses whilst shaking the object of said delight in what can only possibly be construed as _anger_.”

Nicola rolled his eyes. It was a gesture both rude and impolite, yes, but shrouded with the darkness of night and cloaked in secrecy by the silent shining of _la luna_ , Nicola and William could both afford to ‘forget’ their gentlemanly manners.

Tonight, there was only Nicola and William. The rest of the world was blind to their tryst. “Yes, indeed,” he said, taking a single step forward. His movement forced William to take a single step back. “Delight might very well be expressed in anger. Consider, perhaps, _bello_ , the mother whose only and most beloved son ran away for months, only to return laden with riches.”

William had to admit that though he loved their contests of wit, he found it rather unfair that Nicola seemed to have a noticeably better grasp of argument than he did. Nicola often won their verbal sparring, and even when William won, he could not help but think that Nicola had merely allowed him to.

“Would it not then be with good reason that she _shake_ her son in anger despite the delight that she must assuredly feel as consequence of her son’s return.” Nicola had a grin on his face that told William that he had been had. In sarcasm, William had put forth a claim, and with confidence, Nicola had dismantled it. “However, I do believe that this is irrelevant. Perhaps, instead, I should ask you to consider the following question: will you not enjoy watching me as I kiss you with the same anger with which I spoke?”

Nicola took another step forward. William took another back. And then another, which William felt was necessary when Nicola pressed their lips together.

Even in mere kissing, both young men wrestled for control over the situation from the other. Yet again, William found it quite unfair that Nicola had the edge. He hadn’t the faintest idea why Nicola seemed so experienced sexually when he himself had not even deigned to experiment like his father had so helpfully suggested, but such was the truth of the matter.

Nicola pulled away from William and smirked. The curl of his lips was visible in the light of _la luna_. “I shall consider your eagerness to kiss me as a sign of agreement, _bello_.” William chuckled and nodded. “Then be prepared for I shall kiss you with fire and impart to you the knowledge of how much I have longed for your comfort this night.”

William’s eyes, blue as the daylight sky, twinkled in the dim light streaming into the room. Looking into those cerulean depths, Nicola was no longer able to restrain himself. He pressed his lips hungrily to William’s, and he slid his tongue home into the warmth of William’s mouth.

Nicola had not expected to discover something new about William’s sexual tastes that night, but perhaps he should have expected it. William often surprised him, after all. Nicola’s rough but somehow affectionate kiss elicited a groan of appreciation from the other young man.

“How much you’ve longed for my comfort?” said William, when the two finally pulled apart for air. Nicola rolled his eyes again. “What, _caro mio_? The horsehair bed, goose down pillows, the best quality linens, a manse the envy of all the lords of Milan, and a whole cadre of servants is not comfort enough for you?”

Nico’s hands roamed up William’s chest. His touch was maddening for the Englishman. His fingers, light and tender through the sheer fabric of William’s shirt set alight blazing trails of sensuous pleasure across William’s skin.

There was no need for Nicola to ask if William was enjoying himself. His groan of delight was more than enough to answer that unasked question. “Yes, yes,” said Nicola, “but those are the meagre comforts of luxury enjoyed by any who come upon wealth in this earthly life.”

Nicola traced a single finger down the side of William’s face, following the curve of the Englishman’s jaw. William shivered at the touch. “I find myself yearning more and more these days for comfort more exquisite,” he said, breath ghosting past William’s ear, “Something more… _exotic_.”

William often forgot that in Milan, _he_ was the exotic one, not all the Italian men around him. “Perhaps,” said William. “Or is it because I am a guilty pleasure of yours?” Nicola’s heart hammered in his chest at William’s words. They were getting uncomfortably close to a truth that he did not wish to acknowledge at that moment. “Because the comfort I offer is of the more… _sinful_ variety?”

In truth, William had meant everything in jest, but when Nicola froze, he felt apprehension seep into his bones. Had he done something wrong? Had he pressed the wrong button? Nicola’s seeming discomfort lasted for only a moment, and William was left wondering whether Nicola was hiding something.

William did not have much time to think. Before he could say anything, Nicola’s fingers were on his flesh again, and his thoughts melted into mush.

Nicola was hell-bent on drawing forth sounds of pleasure and arousal from William. Anything to drive away the terrible thoughts of fire and brimstone and the crumbling of his father’s carefully-built empire that haunted his nightly dreams.

Nicola’s fingers untied the cords that held close the breast of William’s shirt. When he was done with the trifling task, Nicola brought his fingers higher. He wrapped them around either side of William’s neck and rested his thumb on the ridges of William’s jaw. He pressed his lips hungrily against William’s for a number of minutes, until the burning in his lungs told him that it was time to part for breath.

“I was not expecting you to give me company this night,” whispered Nicola when they finally pulled apart. He was roundly ignoring what William had said earlier, about sinful comfort. He did not want to deal with _that_ just yet.

Nicola closed his eyes and sighed against William’s neck. His voice and his words were laden with desire despite his reservations. The way that his warm breath wafted over William’s neck made the Englishman shiver with want.

Nicola took another step forward. William tried to take another back, but his heel was met by the wall. In truth, he was beginning to struggle with maintaining his grip on the heavy book that was still in his hand.

William did not wish to drop the tome. He’d made enough noise with his ill-thought jump from the window-sill. He did not wish to make another horrendous racket by letting a book of such constitution loose.

To allow the book to slip from his fingers, as far as William was concerned, was altogether farcical. The last thing that this night, which William hoped would be filled with sensuous pleasure the sort of which he’d only ever received from Nicola, needed was for the rest of the inhabitants of the manse to stir from their night-brought slumber.

“I understand,” said Nicola, rubbing William’s jaw idly with his thumb. Truth be told, William’s appearance had managed to render him incapable of being as sharp as he typically was. He was trying his best to make it seem as though there wasn’t anything wrong. At the very least, he remained fully capable of that.

“It was what we arranged,” said Nicola, looking into William’s eyes, “However, I also do understand that for the reason that our trysts are done in secret, in the darkness of night, they cannot always occur how we plan them.”

William could not help but chuckle. It felt rather nice for Nicola to be so understandable, though, if what he knew of the Italian was accurate, he was certain that there was something more to it. If there was one thing that William had learned living with a family of businessmen, there was always an ulterior motive.

“I was, however,” said Nicola, puzzled by the thoughtful expression on William’s face, “I was under the impression that your father had detained you, perhaps for some meeting under the secrecy of night that only merchants of such calibre would be privy to.”

William could not help but laugh even as Nicola frowned at him in confusion. The mere thought that his father would include him in any such thing was laughable at best. He had brothers and sisters, both whole and half, who were possessed of more in their little fingers of his father’s trust when it came to trade than he in his whole body.

All of William’s brothers and sisters were more apt at handling trade and finances than he. His father, however, had not always been a businessman. Apollo had once been a rather successful physician, and had found the beginnings of his wealth there.

William took more to that side of his father. He could not comprehend why, but the great merchant Apollo seemed to find the thought of him being a physician especially appealing. As far as he could tell, his father doted on him moreso than anyone in the family.

At the same time however, Apollo had made it resolutely clear to William that Apollo would rather burn down the family’s ancestral home in the outskirts of London than leave the business to him. William did not know if it was because he didn’t have the skills to be a businessman, or if Apollo merely wanted to ‘encourage’ him to be a physician.

Nevertheless, William suspected that Nicola had asked because Nicola had concerns about Apollo speaking to competitors behind his back. “ _Caro mio_ ,” said William with a confident smirk, “Could you not have just asked if you wished to know if father was meeting your competitors behind your back?”

Nicola stared blankly at William for a moment. He had not even considered that possibility. He had meant the question in only the most innocent sense. Nevertheless, Nicola took a breath to get his thoughts together. He needed to act as though that was _exactly_ what he’d been getting at, if only to keep up the appearance that he was _not_ having second thoughts about continuing this affair with William.

“Ah,” said Nicola, pressing a brief kiss to William’s lips. He felt the skin of William’s neck warm underneath his fingers, and it threatened to throw whatever thoughts he’d managed to cobble together into disarray once more. “But _bello_ ,” he said, “I _did_ ask.”

Nicola grinned. “Perhaps your father does you great disservice by claiming you’ve no tact for the trade. You very clearly know how to play the game. Though you may very well miss one thing here and there.” Nicola cursed himself silently. Now he was cornered. He _had_ to reveal what he’d done to ensure that he and William would at the very least meet.

“Oh really?” said William, cocking an eyebrow at Nicola. “What I know of playing ‘the game,’ I’ve learned from you, _caro mio_ ,” he said, “Though do tell, what might it be that I missed?”

Nicola did not think it was a very good idea to reveal what he’d planned, but he didn’t think there was any other way out of the corner that he’d managed to trap himself in. “ _Ah bello_ ,” he said, with his characteristic, confident smile, “You are brilliant in your own way, but you often fail to see the—” Nicola removed one of his hands from William’s neck and waved it in the air, attempting to find the right words, “ _la grande foto_.”

William furrowed his eyebrows and looked intently into Nicola’s eyes. There was the confident, sometimes-arrogant look in those dark eyes, but there also seemed to be some distress that William could not quite put a finger on.

The epiphany struck William like a brick wall, and he found, in that instant, that he understood how it must have felt for Archimedes in the days of Ancient Greece. He felt no resentment for what Nicola was implying, in fact, he felt like running in the buff through the streets screaming ‘ _Eureka!_ ’ at the top of his lungs.

“Father trusts me not with any of his clients, even the smallest,” said William, rather thoughtfully. Nicola’s could not help but feel somewhat proud that William was able to put two-and-two together, though he was concerned that William would be hurt by the truth. “I was perhaps too absorbed by the delight of being given an excuse to speak with you, _caro mio_ , and being trusted with your father’s account that it never crossed my mind.”

“Did you, perhaps,” ventured William, unsure, but confident in his answer, “arrange the circumstances with which we met?” William’s voice had wonder threaded through it. He had not considered that he would ever attract the attention of such a powerful man, much less, one willing to go to great lengths to gain his own attention. “Did you also arrange my fathers confidence?”

Nicola responded with the only way he knew he could keep up the charade: a cheeky grin worthy of any of William’s countrymen. “ _Sì, bello_ ,” he said, “Is that a problem?”

Nicola swallowed his reticence and pressed his hips into William’s. William’s lips parted so slightly, but well enough to allow a breath of pleasure through them. Nicola suspected that William would have no reason whatsoever to think that his manipulations were any problem whatsoever. However, he was unsure if William would see right through the facade of confidence that he was putting forward.

“ _No, amore_ ,” said William, panting with need from the way that Nicola was pressed against him. He leaned against the wall, desperate to escape this tormentous closeness, but all too eager to take things a step further, most likely in the direction of the horsehair bed he’d mentioned earlier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think of this introduction so far? How do you like the atmosphere? The theme? The dynamic between Nicola and William?
> 
> How do you think the story is going to pan out. Do you think I'll actually make Immurement happen? Am I really that cruel, do you think? :3. Leave a comment if you'd like me to hear your thoughts about the story so far.
> 
> This is only the calm before the storm, and things are not going to get much easier from here on out. If you want to scream at me, feel free to drop a Howler at my tumblr askbox at [Malkuthe Highwind](http://malkuthehighwind.tumblr.com/ask)!
> 
> Next chapter drops in about a week. Keep an eye out! ;)


	2. Abomination Unto Him

_And He said, I tell thee, Peter, the cock shall not crow this day, before that thou shalt deny that thou knowest me_

_—Luke 22:34_

The longer William held the heavy book Nicola had thrown at him, the heavier it seemed to become. It was burdensome, and despite the coolness of the late night, those bleak hours well after midnight but well before dawn, William felt a bead of sweat roll down his brow and trace the side of his face.

William hadn’t imagined that keeping the book, which he’d caught with ease mere minutes ago, would be so strenuous.

“Might I ask?” said William, as Nicola’s warm breath ghosted against the bare skin of his neck. “Ah,” he said, unable to help the gasp of pleasure that slipped his lips as Nicola pressed feather-light kisses to the line of his jaw. “Might I ask his royal highness why he decided I was worthy of his attention?” he said, his face hot, and his voice heavy with want.

Whilst pressing kisses to William’s warm skin, Nicola had looked down, and his eyes had caught sight of the book still held in William’s quivering hands. “Ah, ah,” he said, having decided that it was the perfect time to take a breath and gather his wits about him. As much as he tried to tell himself that being with William was alright, his conscience clamoured at the edges of his mind and defied his will.

All Nicola needed was a moment to breathe to free himself from the grip of William’s inexplicable tendency to incapacitate his normally-sharp wit.

“Before we speak any further,” said Nicola, choosing his words wisely as he pressed a chaste kiss to the hollow of William’s collarbone, “I would be _indebted_ if you got rid of that _dreadful_ book.” For a moment, Nicola felt as though God himself would smite him for calling the Book a dreadful one. No such act of divine wrath came upon Nicola, but instead he had to grapple with himself to not let out a sigh of relief.

William could not help but look and feel rather befuddled as Nicola’s fingers wandered over his shoulder and down the length of the arm that he had wrapped around Nicola’s back. Nicola gently grabbed his wrist and removed his arm from where it had cradled Nicola’s back.

Nicola stepped away and looked at William for a moment. William had not moved a muscle, though he had to admit that the puzzled expression on William’s face left him rather frustrated. He made up a lie as quick as he could. “It’s a ledger,” he explained, unable to help the hint of exasperation in his voice.

“It’s filled with numbers and accounts, and, truly, it is dreadfully drab,” said Nicola, tracing a finger along William’s jaw before turning around and walking away.

Satisfied that William could no longer see his face, Nicola squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and took a deep breath. “On this beautiful night,” he said, as he walked over to the window. He pushed open the shutters that William had partly closed, inviting both the pale light of _la luna_ and the crisp autumn air into the room once more. Nicola breathed in the night’s coolness and sighed as he wove his lie in silence. “I wish to have nothing more to do with numbers.”

Nicola crossed the distance between himself and the bed. He sat down, frowning as he often did at the way that his legs dangled over the edge, his feet just _barely_ unable to touch the wooden floor. Sometimes, he did not like the fact that he was short as he was. It had often made intimidation a rather ineffective tactic despite his reputation as son of Ade di Angelo.

Truth be told, however, there were times when Nicola enjoyed his diminutive stature. It lent well to misleading his competitors, after all. They often underestimated him, courting nobles and aristocrats alike without lending him much thought for they believed him to be naught but a child. Nicola relished the fact that he could prove them wrong without a doubt, stealing the deals that they had hoped to get from right under their noses.

Nicola shook his head ever so slightly from side to side. Those thoughts of his shortness had no place in his mind at the moment. His thoughts were cluttered enough as they were, after all. Whatever it was that was going on between himself and William commanded his attention fully. He needed to have his wits fully about him if he was to get through the night without falling apart. The damnable Book had done more to unsettle him than he’d thought it could, and William’s flippancy certainly did not help matters.

“I have spent more than enough of today,” said Nicola, after formulating the words in his mind, “and this evening, if you would believe it, poring over these accursed little things that for some blasted reason mean so much to us of the mercantile sort.”

If there was one thing that Nicola had learned over the passage of the years, it was that the best lies were often those threaded with truth. He was indeed tired of looking at numbers, but the tome in William’s hand contained very few of those, save perhaps those that preceded each verse, and those numbers that the good Sir Isaac Newton had obsessed over.

By the time that William was shaken from his stunned stupor and looked at Nicola, Nicola had already managed to gather himself, or at least as much as he could. “Of the mercantile variety?” said William, with amusement in the tone of his voice as he looked upon Nicola, “I do not believe you’ve used that turn of phrase before.

William walked over to the bed, book held in both hands now. He was afraid of dropping the damn thing. There was, however, doubt in his mind that Nicola was being entirely truthful with him. The book seemed both too thick and too heavy to be merely a ledger, or at least, not one that would not be kept in its own room and taken out only when absolutely necessary.

William had no doubt in his mind that his own father had ledgers like this one, and perhaps ones even larger, but he also knew that the ones his father carried around to do business on the day-to-day were not even remotely similar to the one he held in his hands.

William sat down on the bed beside Nicola. He forgot, again, in his desperation to keep the book in his hands, that he was supposed to be quiet. The sudden descent of his weight upon the bed made the bedstead squeal with displeasure.

The entire fiasco earned William a withering glare from Nicola, whom he could only imagine was beginning to get irritated by his thoughtless carelessness. He responded in the only way that he knew how, with an apologetic look.

When Nicola said nothing and instead continued to look at him, William traced his finger along the spine of the leather-bound tome in his hands. William looked down, surprised at the noticeable lack of debossed words on the leather binding. That fact alone gave William reason enough to doubt that the book was merely a ledger.

William looked at Nicola and raised an eyebrow. Before Nicola could say anything, William flipped open the cover of the book despite the sound of displeasure that it drew from Nicola’s throat. He had genuinely only meant to take a peek before he put it away as the Italian had asked, but what he saw surprised him so much he was unable to resist leafing through the pages, even as a dull anger rose in the pit of his stomach.

William glanced sideways at Nicola, dull anger melting into curiosity. William was puzzled, though Nicola felt differently. Thankful for the cover of night, Nicola clenched his fists in apprehension so viciously that he suspected his knuckles had turned white. “Well fuck me sideways,” said William, the words slipping through his lips as he traced a finger along the barely-legible text on the page before him.

Nicola’s fists loosened in his relief and a ragged laugh escaped his throat. “Yes, _bello_?” he said with a smirk, though within, whatever calm he’d managed to collect whilst William had been silent shattered into innumerable tiny pieces. “I would be glad to,” he attempted to say with his usual swagger, though he was unable to keep the slight shakiness from his voice.

Thankfully, Nicola’s words were enough to distract William from the turmoil that had become apparent in his voice. William’s cheeks turned a pretty shade of crimson, and he felt as though his face was ready to burst into flames at the slightest provocation.

William attempted his best at nonchalance, glancing only intermittently at Nicola whilst trying to seem as though he was examining the book. “ _Caro mio,_ ” he said, amusement and embarrassment woven into his voice, “Pardon me if I cause offence, but I had not thought you to be of the churchgoing sort.”

Nicola rolled his eyes at William, and sighed, hoping that the vexation that he tried to infuse into his exhalation would deter the Englishman. It did not seem to work. Desperate, Nicola clutched at the air of confidence that hung about him most days like a second skin, but had decided that on this night he needed it most, to be uninterested in being around him.

Nicola steeled himself and looked William in the eye. “Poking around where you’re not supposed to and asking questions without truly asking them?” he said, with a half-hearted smirk that concealed the conflict yet raging within him. “Why, _bello_ , I might yet make a businessman out of you.”

William barked a laugh, though the way that Nicola was acting made him rather nervous. “Aye, master,” he said, with a smirk much the same as Nicola’s. “However, I find my skills rather lacking. I must implore that you teach me this art of responding to interrogation by—shall we say—redirection.” William leafed further through the book, shaking his head both in disbelief at what he’d just said and at the fact that he was holding a Bible in his hands.

Nicola prayed silently to God and all His saints that William would go no further than he already had. His breath was bated, caught in his throat. It took all his willpower to not breathe a sigh of relief when William made as though to close the book.

William was about to put the tome away when in his clumsiness, he made the Bible fall open to a page marked with a folded piece of paper. Nicola cursed when he saw what had happened, the profanity staining his mind’s tongue black.

William’s eyes widened, and though it was hard to see in the dim light of _la luna_ , now hiding behind a bank of clouds, it was clear to William what he was reading, and it was excessively clear to Nicola that William’s eyes burned with anger.

The damned book had fallen open to the single page that William hated more than any in the entire damn thing. The twentieth chapter of Leviticus. With trembling fingers, he pried the folded piece of paper from between the pages that lay open before him. Scrawled in handwriting that was surely not Nicola’s, as it was alien to William, was the one verse that he loathed with every fibre of his being.

Leviticus 20:13 contained, as far as William was concerned, the most abominable words that humanity had ever managed to conceive. “ _If a man also lie with mankind as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death; their blood shall be upon them._ ” William was convinced that if evil itself could take physical form, it would take that of that singular verse.

William slammed the book shut. The sound of the pages rustling as they were forcefully pushed together resounded in the silence of the night. It was as clear as a cloudless day that William was livid.

William reached over to Nicola’s nightstand and irreverently shoved the Bible onto the table. “Who brought you this?” said William, furious that someone had discovered Nicola’s tendencies and had so flagrantly displayed insulting disapproval.

“Would you be quiet?” snapped Nicola, more acid dripping from the words that passed his lips than he had wanted or anticipated. Truth be told, there was a part of him that was relieved that William was as angry as he had been when he’d discovered the damnable book.

Nevertheless, the greater part of Nicola, his conscience brought up in the Catholic faith by his deceased mother, rebelled against his fury even now. What right had he to be angry? This was the Word of God himself, and he had no right in his sinfulness to rebel against the Word. No one did.

“Who brought you this?” repeated William, in a voice that was admittedly much softer but no less irate than it had been before. He listened to Nicola’s demand that he be quiet, but he would not quench the fires of his rage.

William might not have been a businessman like his father or Nicola. He might not have had the knowledge of playing the political field like they did. Regardless, William had his family’s vast wealth of resources behind him and for this seemingly most egregious crime, he would bring all of that to bear on the spiteful soul that had thought it well to poison Nicola, his darling Nicola, with _evil_.

Nicola sighed. He had hoped that his own anger would be enough to stop William from pursuing the matter, but the son of Apollo seemed rather bent on following the question to its end.

“I must confess, _bello_ , I haven’t the faintest idea who brought it to me,” said Nicola. He was uneasy, as he had not the slimmest desire to talk about this matter. Not with William, nor anyone for that matter. “I retired today of long hours of fruitless work with father’s partners and hopeful partners. Upon arriving in my room, the Good Book was on my bed.”

Truth be told, Nicola was somewhat thankful that he did not know whose ploy the Bible on his bed was. The sheer loathing so evident in William’s eyes had scared him. Though he was conflicted about the matter, some part of Nicola wanted to protect William, and that included protecting William from himself.

Nicola had, after all, seen it time and again from children born into the aristocracy. In truth, he had been tempted on far more occasions than he cared to admit. William wanted revenge of the kind that was available only to the rich and the powerful.

Nicola knew, however, how easy it was to believe that riches and influence alone would make one invincible. With that in mind, Nicola had fortunately had the good sense to restrain his own wrath.

William opened his mouth to say something, but before a single word could slip his pretty lips, Nicola had pressed a finger to them.

Nicola was neither willing nor ready to have this conversation with William. He would rather first climb from the pit of Hell to the heights of Heaven before he mentioned anything about what he thought of the Bible, and whomever it was that had left the book on his bed.

If Nicola had to end the conversation forcefully and without elegance, he was more than happy to do _that_.

There was one purpose for William’s visit that night, after all, the confusing mix of emotions at Nicola’s core be damned. He and William were together for a night of sensuous pleasure the likes of which either of them had only ever managed to experience at the hands of the other. Nicola was unwilling to let _that_ part pass.

Nicola’s eyes darted to the Bible, and whilst he felt obligated to love the damn thing and detested it at the same time, he found himself making sure that it was safely stowed away. It was, albeit haphazardly.

As much as he could, Nicola pushed aside thoughts of Eternal Damnation. He didn’t want them. Not ever, though certainly not tonight of all nights.

With the fear ingrained in him by the Church he had been born into cast as well as it could be to the wayside, Nicola thought it was as good a time as any to initiate what would hopefully soon lead to rather pleasurable coupling.

With the sort of silence that could very well have been the envy of any large predatory cat, Nicola pounced on his prey. With a sound that was suspiciously like a squeak, William found himself pinned to the bed.

The two young men struggled for dominance for but a moment. Their contest ended as soon as William realized that despite Nicola’s less-than-impressive height, Nicola was much stronger than he was.

Leaning over the man that would be his lover that night, and, despite the protestations of his consciousness, hopefully lover for many nights yet, Nicola whispered into William’s ear. “What say you,” he said, burdening his words with as much desire as he could muster, “That we speak of something else entirely?”

Nicola’s hands made their way to William’s thighs, drawing a gasp of want from the Englishman. “Or perhaps,” suggested Nicola, moving his hands further up William’s legs, “Let us not speak any further at all. We are, after all, indubitably wasting the hours yet left of this night, and we’ve not yet come to the purpose of this visit of yours.”

Nicola pressed his lips against William’s neck, but William made a discontented sound. Nicola pulled away, suddenly fearful that perhaps he’d taken things too far, that perhaps he’d mistaken the slight firmness of William’s member when he’d brushed against it for something else.

It did not seem, to Nicola, that William was yet ready to be intimate. That was what he gathered from looking into William’s pretty blue eyes. “Very well,” he said, willing to concede to talking for just a little while longer, so long as the matter was something far removed from the Good Book.

Nicola did not think it a very good idea, but the words came forth despite his misgivings. “If you would like to simply talk for now, might I not instead interest you in the meaning of what I said to you in anger mere minutes ago?”

William cocked an eyebrow at Nicola. The Italian had this rather strange way with speech. This seemingly-eldritch technique with which he spoke volumes with so few words that it was eerie.

The unfortunate thing about the night was that William did not think that he would get any satisfactory answers from Nicola about the culprit that was to blame for the Bible. Nor did he, in fact, believe that he could convince Nicola to speak freely of what he thought about the Bible.

These were things that William was sure that he would not accomplish for the moment, both because Nicola was every bit as stubborn as he was, and the fact that he was pinned to the bed whilst being straddled by the most gorgeous man that he had had the privilege of laying his sinful eyes upon. Not whilst Nicola’s fingers were splayed so delicately yet firmly in such close quarters with his aching manhood.

“Aye, _caro mio_ ,” said William, deciding to acquiesce instead of argue. His breath turned traitor against him, bated in his throat, unwilling to come out because of the beauty of the man that straddled his hips.

“You drive a hard bargain, Nico,” said William, “but how might one resist this offer of coupling with one of such beauty as you?” Despite himself, Nicola felt heat creep into his cheeks. “Of beauty that neither Da Vinci nor Michelangelo nor any of the Masters could capture let alone do justice. Methinks that resistance might very well be impossible.” William reached up and stroked the side of Nicola’s face.

Though Nicola knew flattery when he heard it, he could tell that some part of William genuinely believed the utter nonsense that William had just spouted. This fact alone was enough to silence the words he’d been about to speak, and it brought crimson to his cheeks.

With that came an unwelcome tide of fear, and with that fear came the desire to make William never want to say those words again.

“Pray,” said William, no longer able to resist Nicola’s charm, “Do tell, Nicola di Angelo, what was it that you spoke to me in your fiery _Italiano_?”

Nicola hesitated for a moment. He was beginning to doubt himself. He was not sure that it was a good idea for him to tell William what he’d said in his anger. He _had_ been rather vicious, and while he knew that he had not been serious about anything he’d said, William had an annoying knack for taking things far too seriously.

Nicola decided to distract himself from his troubled thoughts by clutching fistfuls of William’s shirt and pulling the silken fabric from the ratty breeches that William had elected to wear. The thought gave Nicola pause. He wondered from whence the Englishman had found such common fare that was only marginally better than what beggars wore.

Nicola saw the twinkle of mirth in William’s blue eyes, lit by the light of _la luna_ , and he felt something in his chest. Something warm. Something that tingled. He feared it more than anything else. He had feared it since the day that he had laid his eyes upon the young Englishman splayed underneath him. Nicola took a deep breath and steeled himself for what might come once he told William of what he’d said.

“I said Idiot!” said Nicola, though he supposed that William had probably already gathered that. The Italian word for idiot wasn’t very far removed from the English. Nicola smirked, though his heart was hammering in his chest.

“I asked you if you had wanted them to catch us,” said Nicola, in as lust-laden a voice as he could manage. From the way that William squirmed underneath him, the could tell that his tone was having an effect on the young man.

Nicola slipped his hands underneath the loose hem of William’s shirt. It was easier to do now that he’d pulled the fabric free of William’s breeches. He said, with ferocity that he had not expected, the anxiety that had been building up behind his eyes spilling out in the venom of his voice, “I said that maybe that book should have hit you and thrown you out the window.”

So much for Nicola’s attempts to rein in his inner turmoil, to push the confused emotions in his heart to the sides of his being. As much as Nicola tried, the anger that those turbulent thoughts caused seeped into his words like poison. Nicola felt a cold stab of fear through his heart when he saw the twinkle of mirth in William’s eyes die.

William did not know what he’d expected. He supposed that he should not have been surprised that Nicola had said unpleasant things in his anger, but this understanding did little to allay the unexpected pain of Nicola’s words. He did not quite understand why Nicola _still_ sounded so angry.

“I said that then,” said Nicola, voice angry though his brows were knitted with concern. “My problems would have been over.” Nicola dared to crack a half-hearted mischievous smile. “You insufferable fool!”

Nicola felt his heart sink in his chest when he saw the crease of William’s brow deepen. His attempt at levity had failed, and he was beginning to seriously consider that perhaps he should not have said anything at all. Perhaps this time, he _had_ pushed William too far.

William rolled over, and Nicola felt his heart skip a beat as he fell onto the bed with a thud. His arms tangled themselves in the woollen sheets. He attempted a nervous laugh, though there wasn’t a shred of jest in either William’s movements or his words.

“Do you truly wish the book had hit me out the window?” said William, biting his lower lip. He had not meant for some of the hurt he felt to slip into his words. Alas, there was no taking them back. “I would have died had I fallen from that height! Or, if fortune be merciful upon me, I would have been crippled for the rest of my life!” he said, rather angrily.

The glare that William shot Nicola was accusatory, and the Italian had to admit that it was a well-deserved glare. For the first time, however, William wondered if perhaps his affections for Nicola were misplaced, and if he had just been wasting his time so far with someone whom he’d wrongly assumed felt something for him, too. “Do you really think me a problem of yours?” he demanded.

Truly, Nicola had not expected William to take the matter so seriously, though he could not find any good reason for William to have taken his words, once he repeated them, as jest. Nevertheless, he could clearly see the glimmer of hurt behind William’s blue eyes.

Nicola sighed. He had gotten himself into this mess, and despite the fact that his wit seemed uninterested in cooperating with him that night, he would find a way out of it.

Nicola rubbed his temples with his thumb and forefinger. The night was supposed to have been a pleasant one, but his own shortcomings and uncertainties about himself were beginning to make it nigh-unbearable. “ _Dio mio, bello_ ,” said Nicola, shaking his head. “I would never. You are not a problem of mine.”

Nicola looked into William’s eyes, trying to look as sincere as he could. All he received was a withering glare to rival one of his own. “You are well aware of my sense of humour, _bello_ ,” he said, “It runs rather dark, yes?”

“ _Sì_ , _Caro mio_ ,” said William, in as tender and sympathetic tone as he could manage. “I am.”

He could not remain angry at Nicola for very long. He reached across the space between himself and Nicola. He was unable to help the small smile that crept into his lips when he felt Nicola relax into his touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooh. I hope you enjoyed this chapter because I definitely did enjoy writing it. Smut should come in the next chapter, though I can't say when that one will arrive because, well, final exams are coming soon.
> 
> In any case, this is where we dip our feet into the heavy theological elements that will be a part of this setting and this fic. Why? Because it adds a layer of danger, drama, and realism to the narrative. Not only that, however, but it's also a social commentary and an argument against dogmatic belief.
> 
> This fic is many things, and I think, if you bear with them, we'll be together for a fantastic ride. If you're a Christian or a Catholic and you're already beginning to find William calling the Bible an evil book offensive, then please, try and stick around, and don't ever forget to ask questions about your faith. What use is faith if it's not challenged, after all? Besides. This is the most tame this fic is going to get. I'm not holding back on this one, guys. Mark my words. ;)
> 
> As always, leave a kudos if you like the story so far, and leave a comment if you like me and what I'm doing. I'd love to hear your thoughts. <3.


	3. The Taste of Manhood

_If a man also lie with mankind as he lieth with a woman, both of them shall surely be put to death; their blood be upon them._  
_— Leviticus 20:13_

The calm that Nicola felt at the gentle caress of William’s fingers was very short-lived. It was not the fact that they were so tender that stabbed fear into Nicola’s hearts, it was the way with which William had spoken the term of endearment.

Nicola was conflicted enough about his own feelings for William. He did not even know if he actually had them, or if he did, whether he should try and abandon them because of the Word of God. Nicola hadn’t the faintest idea what he would do if it came to be that William felt the same way for him.

Eternal Damnation, after all, was not very high on Nicola’s list of wanted experiences. While he had always been fascinated with the question of what Hell would be like, he hadn’t the tiniest shred of desire to become intimately acquainted with the Pit.

Nicola shook the thoughts of fire and brimstone from the corners of his mind, where they chattered at him, demanding that he take a good long look at what his future would be like if he continued on this degenerate path that he was pursuing with William. Nicola, all at once, wanted to tell William to leave and stay for eternity.

Nicola was conflicted beyond what words could describe. However, there was a simple truth that made all of it less painful than it normally would have been. In this matter, his arousal was beginning to speak much louder than his conscience. After all, Nicola had been beating his conscience down for much of the night.

Before Nicola knew what was happening, he found himself moving, inexorably, across the bed. He crossed the gap between himself and William, and found himself enveloped in the Englishman’s warm, waiting arms. If he had not been so conflicted, he told himself, he probably would have been happy.

Nicola looked up, and despite the way that clouds shrouded _la luna_ ’s light, William’s eyes were still bright. He pressed his lips in earnest against William’s, and felt his face warm. Before too long, he felt a tingling bloom into his cheeks from where his lips were locked with William’s.

Nicola was aware that what they were doing was wrong and perverse in the eyes of the Church of his youth, and in the eyes of his God and his countrymen. However, Nicola was certain that the sin of lying with another man was forgivable. That was what Christ had died for, after all, wasn’t it?

Christ had died for the absolution of mankind’s sins through his blood. Even so, Nicola feared. He did not fear the wrath of the Church and her priests. The Papacy was strong, yes, but even the most pain that they could inflict was merely transient.

Nicola, however, was afraid that if he fell any more in love with those bright blue eyes of William’s than he already was, they would very well consign him to eternity in _la inferno_.

Could Nicola, truly, however, deny what his manhood demanded of him? Could he defy what his heart ached for? These questions were what plagued Nicola incessantly. These were questions that had bothered him long before he came to Milan on his father’s command. Now that someone had brought him the Word and had pointed out the clear outright condemnation of his nature by the Lord Himself, these were the questions that _burned_ at the forefront of his consciousness.

These questions lay at the core of why Nicola had gone through such extreme lengths so that no one would suspect the relationship he had with William.

Nicola, in his infinitely failing wisdom, allowed his eyes to settle on William. Lit only by the dim, muffled light of _la luna_ , William still had a beauty about him that Nicola could no longer deny was something that no woman would ever possess. Not for him, at the very least.

Despite the turmoil within him, Nicola felt his heart set aflutter in his chest by the mere sight of the other man that was lying on the bed beside him. His heart beat against his very bones and his blood roared in his ears. There was no denying that there was _something_ he felt for William.

Nicola knew that there were many things on the line with what he was doing. His own reputation was the least of his problems. His father’s reputation, for one, was something that he had to keep in mind at all times. What would people think once they found out that Ade di Angelo had a deviant son? He could only imagine his father’s carefully-built empire crumbling to ashes because of him. Did he truly dare to risk that?

There was also the matter of Nicola’s already-tenuous relationship with his older sister. Bianca di Angelo. Nicola loved Bianca a _lot_. Of his brothers and sisters, Bianca was his only full-sibling. She had been born from his mother’s womb.

Bianca had wanted to become a nun. Nicola had not wanted her to. If she had become a part of the convent in Milan, he would likely have never had the pleasure of having her around anymore.

Getting Bianca ejected from the convent was not one of Nicola’s proudest moments. During Bianca’s postulancy in the convent, Nicola had sent word to Ade, and gotten his father’s blessing to spend some of the family wealth toward a donation to the Sisterhood.

A week after Nicola had received Ade’s blessing, the Mother Superior had announced that in her dreams she had received word from the Lord that Bianca was barren, and while she was a pious woman, the Sisterhood could not have one cursed by the Lord among their number.

Despite that, Bianca had maintained her piety, and Nicola was sure that while she loved him so, she would be the first to tell him that she did not approve of what he had become.

There was also the fact that the very salvation of Nicola’s soul hung in the balance. Did Nicola truly dare to risk not only his bond with his sister, as well as eternal damnation for one man whom he’d not known very long?

Surely, Nicola tried to convince himself, his heart could learn to yearn for another. His father had often told him, after all, that while Proserpina had despised Ade in the beginning, they had eventually learned to love each other. Surely, Nicola, more a son of his father than any of his father’s legitimate children by Proserpina, could learn to love another. Perhaps, even, a woman who would give him children and do him proud in the eyes of the Church.

Nevertheless, as much as Nicola attempted to see himself with a woman, Nicola found himself entirely repulsed. The very thought was nauseating, not because he hated women, but because there was something else that his heart desired.

There was an ache within Nicola. It was a longing far more primal and animal than he thought was appropriate for any single man, much less one such as himself, positioned high in the pecking order of the world.

The beast within Nicola growled, and he had to battle himself tooth and nail so that he would not make the same barbaric sound. The beast was struggling to be freed, and it was gaining headway. The feeling of his breeches rubbing against his hardness, as well as the sensation of William’s manhood pressing insistently against his thigh sent shocks of pleasure racing through his entire body, releasing the grip that he had on the beast within him.

Nicola decided then that the question of sodomy and damnation could wait. For now, at the very least. He could no more deny the beast that was rearing its ugly head within him than he could consciously make his heart halt in its thunderous beating in his chest.

When finally, Nicola pulled himself ever so slightly away from William, he was shaken from his thoughts by the intense look that he shared with William. “You are aware it is not so pleasant hearing you jest time and again about life’s greatest enemy, yes?” said William.

The query remained in the air, unanswered by the silence that followed Willam’s words. Nicola did not think that death was life’s greatest enemy. If he recalled correctly, the Church had always said that it was Lucifer that was the greatest enemy. The desire to become greater than God himself.

“Perhaps, _amore_ ,” said William, none the wiser to the way that Nicola’s heart fluttered in his chest at the term of endearment that Nicola was convinced was more than just banter. “Perhaps it is time to find a different kind of humour to partake in? Perhaps one that is neither so dry nor grotesque as the one you have now?”

The moment that William finished speaking, the clouds that had been shrouding much of _la luna_ ’s light for the past few minutes moved away. Pale light rained upon William’s handsome face, and Nicola could not help but drink with relish the slightest twinge of pink on those pale cheeks of William’s.

The sight was enough to chase away Nicola’s rebellious conscience, at least for the next little while. He was thankful for that fact. However, the sight had another effect on Nicola. It pulled his arousal, sharp, overwhelming, and pungent, to the forefront of his mind.

Perhaps, Nicola thought, for the first time so far, that for one night he could refrain from worry and instead enjoy the purpose of William’s visit: comfort.

If, however, the past few minutes had taught Nicola anything, it was that the slightest provocation could bring his conscience, screaming at the top of his lungs that he was being sinful, back. Perhaps he could enjoy the rest of the night. Perhaps.

“ _Dio mio, bello,_ ” said Nicola, noting with dry amusement that he was beginning to get rather used with speaking the phrase around William. It was not his fault that William seemed to be a lodestone for situations worthy of the words. “You are beginning to spout nonsense, _bello_ ,” said Nicola with a smirk, “Were you so distressed by my jest?”

William opened his mouth to protest Nicola’s words, but he soon found his words struck dead in his throat by the sensation of Nicola’s hands finding their way under his shirt. He froze, cock throbbing where it was trapped against Nicola’s thigh. He tensed as Nicola’s slender fingers travelled upward, leaving trails of fire where they went.

After a quick tweak to William’s nipples—that elicited a groan of rapturous pleasure from the Englishman, he felt Nicola’s fingers travel further up. Before he knew it, Nicola had torn the fabric from his skin, leaving him bare-chested in the cool night.

William’s breath caught again in his throat as he watched Nicola begin to do the same to himself. Nicola looked at William almost playfully as he slowly, enticingly pulled off his night-shirt. William breathed out, aroused beyond belief by the sight of Nicola’s bare olive skin and Nicola’s lean, defined body that was evidently well-cared for.

“Perhaps,” said Nicola, grinding his hips against William’s as he brought them closer together. He stopped only when they were chest-to-chest. The heat that flowed between them made their collective arousal soar. “Instead of all this dreadful and drab talk,” said Nicola, slightly breathless from the proximity and how hard his member was in his loins, “I should instead show you how it is that we Italian stallions apologize.”

William cocked an eyebrow at Nicola, attempting his best to hold on to his rational thought. It was becoming increasingly difficult, what with the sensation of Nicola’s cock against his own, separated only by two thin layers of fabric, one layer decidedly of better quality than the other.

William had never heard the phrase ‘Italian stallion’ before. Moreso, however, he was wondering what Nicola was apologizing for. “Apologize?” he said, concerned, but at the same time aroused, “What for?” he said.

Nicola rolled his eyes. “For the less-than-lustrous night we have had so far. For my _inadequate_ humour,” he said, attempting levity. It was all to mask the fact that there were many more things that Nicola wanted to apologize for, but didn’t have the heart to speak to William.

“ _For the way I look at you and feel both something strange and wonderful, as well as something heavy and terrible, as though sin were dragging me to the depths of hell even as I live. For the way that I believe you might love me, and the fact that I fear that. For the way that I do not think I could ever return the same love to you, if you do feel that way, even if I do feel the same_.” Those were only very few of the things that Nicola felt he needed to find forgiveness for.

There was one thing that Nicola was certain of. The sins that he wished to be absolved would not be forgiven in the halls of the church. They would not be forgiven even if he donated an entire confessional to the cathedral.

“Ah,” said William, half-satisfied with the answer even though he could see weariness in Nicola’s eyes that he’d never seen there before. Nevertheless, he didn’t think it would be prudent to address the matter in the middle of what he’d been told, by his father no less, was called foreplay. “Apology accepted gratefully, _caro mio_ ,” said William, “However, do tell, what do you mean by ‘Italian stallion’?”

In the dim light of _la luna_ , William could only see the grin that split Nicola’s face. He was oblivious to the glimmer of relief behind Nicola’s dark eyes, relief that William had not decided to pursue the matter of what had happened.

William did not resist when he felt Nicola’s slender but strong fingers wrap around his wrist. His hand was pulled down, and as it descended the length of his body, heat pooled in his belly and welled in his crotch. It was almost stifling.

Heat rushed into William’s face and set his cheeks alight with sensuous fire when his hand was guided tantalizingly to Nicola’s groin. Feeling the straining flesh within, William was all too glad to trace the outline of the formidable manhood, larger than his own, straining against the fabric of Nicola’s pyjamas.

William shivered when Nicola leaned into him and whispered into his ear, “This is what makes an Italian stallion.” Nicola moved William’s hand up and down, allowing him to feel the full length and girth of the veritable weapon hidden within the folds of Nicola’s breeches. “Do you think you’re ready for it?” said Nicola with a confident smirk.

“There is only one way to find out, no?” said William, grinning as he looked into Nicola’s eyes. “I say we find out,” said William, his heart skipping a beat at the intensity of Nicola’s gaze. Moments later, all thoughts of heaven and hell, eternal damnation, and fire and brimstone, were driven from Nicola’s mind as his lips came crashing together with William’s.

When Nicola and William finally parted from each other, both were panting in an attempt to catch their breaths. Each of their breaths were heavy with need and want for the other. Their hard members rubbed against each other through the cloth of their remaining garments.

Nicola pressed his lips against William’s jaw. He rained flirtatious kisses upon the sensitive line of flesh that followed the curve William’s face. He grazed William’s skin with his teeth as William writhed underneath him. For William, the mere sensation of Nicola’s lips and teeth against his skin was enough to cause him more pleasure than he had thought possible.

A low groan issued forth from William’s lips when slowly, Nicola pressed kisses further down his neck. He held back a gasp when Nicola nibbled on the skin above the hollow of his collarbone. He whimpered when Nicola suckled his flesh.

Nicola was masterful in this matter of coupling, and as much as William tried, he could not for the life of him figure out why. He was aware that Nicola had slept with others before, but William doubted that mere trysts could turn one into a lover that could make William’s mind turn blank with pleasure.

William’s thoughts were chased away as Nicola pressed tender lips to his sternum. He whimpered as Nicola’s fingers wandered down from the sides of his face and over his shoulders, each furtive touch leaving lingering trails of sensual fire.

William held his breath in anticipation as Nicola’s fingers travelled down to his chest and paused around his nipples. William squirmed as the digits played furtively with his flesh, rubbing gentle circles around his nipples.

Nicola grinned more as he pressed his lips on a line leading further down William’s body. He could feel with his lips the tension in William’s muscles. William’s body had gone rigid the moment that he had started moving down and his fingers teased William’s nipples.

Nicola pressed his lips to William’s navel and fought down the urge to laugh at how ridiculous it might have seemed. He pressed his tongue into that button in William’s belly and listened for the soft groan that was ripped from William’s throat.

Nicola began pinching, pulling, and tweaking William’s nipples in the brief moment that William was distracted by the way that he swirled his tongue around William’s navel. His ministrations earned him a shuddering gasp from William, an exclamation of pleasure, and a whimper brought about by William’s powerlessness in the situation.

Nicola could not help but grin again, his fingers abandoning William’s nipples after a minute. His fingers continued their journey downward, drawing inexorably closer to the prize enshrouded by the fabric of William’s breeches.

Nicola’s fingers set William’s skin afire with pleasure wherever they went on his body. They traced down his sides, making him wriggle in an attempt to get away.

William had always been very ticklish, but it had always just been an innocent game between himself and his siblings. Somehow, Nicola had managed to turn it into an exquisite kind of sexual pleasure that William had never even dreamed of conceiving.

William was, for all his attempts to retain his composure, was in a state of disarray. His hair had been thrown every which way, turned unruly by the way that Nicola’s masterful manipulations made him squirm with pleasure. His lips were parted in a silent, drawn-out groan of pleasure that Nicola somehow managed to elicit from him simply by kissing the flesh below his navel.

Nicola’s lips twitched up in a self-satisfied grin when he reached the tiny line of blond hair that led straight down to William’s groin. It was a veritable treasure-trail to what Nicola was sure was William’s most prized possession and most favoured toy.

Nicola’s fingers pressed against the firm muscles of William’s belly, making the Englishman squirm. Such loud laughs threatened to spill from William’s lips that he had to press his own fist between his teeth to stifle them. They were sure to be accompanied by moans certain to wake up anyone else in the manor.

Nicola looked up at William, dark eyes gleaming with mischief as he dragged his tongue along the line of blond hair just under William’s navel. William looked at him with wide eyes as he travelled ever downward, getting tantalizingly close to that straining manhood hidden in William’s breeches.

Just as Nicola’s tongue reached the edge of the the garment, offensive in only that it was still on William’s person, he smirked and moved his tongue back up the length of William’s treasure-trail. In the meantime, his fingers continued their journey down until they met the ridge of William’s breeches.

Nicola brought his fingers together, following the line of top of William’s trousers. He was careful not to touch William’s stiff manhood at all. Instead, the only stimulation that William’s cock received was from rubbing against the coarse fabric of the breeches.

Nicola smirked as William whimpered into the fist in his mouth. His eyes watered from the sheer anticipation of sensual pleasure as Nicola’s fingers gently pulled at the laces that held his breeches closed. Moments later, the laces were untied and William’s manhood, impressive but not nearly as impressive as Nico’s veritable weapon, was given much needed room to breathe.

William’s cock shifted. He bit into his fist as his member rubbed against flesh on the one side and coarse fabric on the other. The loosening of his breeches had allowed his member to spring up toward his belly, but at the same time, the fact that the breeches were still there prevented his manhood from going any further.

Nicola had a gleam of mischief in his eyes. He looked down at William’s member, pressing insistently against the fabric of William’s breeches. He smirked as he pressed his lips to the base of William’s manhood. Nicola felt the member throb against his lips and he could not help but grin. He was going to enjoy teasing William.

This was no secret. Nicola _always_ enjoyed teasing William. He stroked William’s cock through William’s breeches, making the Englishman squirm even more where he lay.

In one single motion, Nicola pulled William’s trousers down. He freed the member that had been concealed within. William’s manhood sprung up with enthusiasm and struck him in the face. Though others might have been disgusted by the entire thing, Nicola thought that the moment William’s cock touched the underside of his jaw was an exquisite one.

The warm flesh of William’s manhood against his face gave Nicola _some_ comfort, strangely enough. Nicola reared back and watched as William’s member fell back to slap against William’s belly. He smirked before he pulled William’s remaining garments all the way off.

Truth be told, Nicola had not expected William to forgo the undergarments, but since it had been easier to divest the Englishman of any and all clothing, Nicola found that he could not complain as much as he would have liked.

Once he was rid of William’s ratty breeches, Nicola pressed his nose against the sparse patch of blond hair that dusted William’s pubic mound. He breathed in the delectable musk that only a man could produce. It was almost heavenly, and it certainly did not help that it was William’s smell, and not anyone else’s.

If Nicola was being entirely honest, if the man lying in bed before him had been anyone else, he would have simply sucked them off and fucked them and given them no second thought before kicking them out. With William, it was different. Nicola _loved_ to hear the small noises that William made as he tried not to moan and groan like a cheap whore whilst Nicola had his way.

Nicola looked up at William, whose blue eyes were wide, face tinged red with pleasure and lips parted with want. He blew a kiss in the Englishman’s direction and grinned with satisfaction as William reddened even further.

“Interesting,” said Nicola, eyes falling upon the beast that he had unleashed from William’s breeches. It was not nearly as intimidating as his own, but the truth was that it was making his mouth water. “It seems you have forgotten to wear undergarments, William,” said Nicola, with a smirk as he breathed over the quivering flesh of William’s manhood.

William gasped and bucked his teeth, thrusting his cock into the empty air as Nicola’s warm breath ghosted over his balls and his shaft. He whimpered, but he calmed himself and took his fist out of his mouth. “I thought I would make things easier for you,” said William, trying his best to seem rather collected, even though he knew it was for naught.

“Easier for me?” said Nicola with mocking elation. “Oh but _bello_ ,” he said, pressing his nose along the shaft of William’s hardness; “I don’t plan on making things easier for _you_.” William only just managed to bite back another whimper.

Nicola breathed in the smell of William’s manhood. Yes, indeed, this was something he could not wait to taste once again, though by the look on William’s face, Nicola was sure that the Englishman had no idea what was in store for him.

Nicola pressed the tip of his tongue upon the base of William’s cock, right where the folds of William’s sack met his shaft. William shivered and bucked his hips again. He could not help it. It was an involuntary reaction to the way that Nicola licked the underside of his member in one long stroke that left him quivering with pleasure.

William had expected Nicola to start suckling on the head of his cock. Before this night, Nicola had always licked his member, seemingly getting a taste, before suckling on it. Instead, Nicola decided to tease William this night.

Nicola licked William again. One long stroke from the root of William’s cock to the crown of its head. Nicola’s tongue flicked at the slit, which was wet with pre-come, to finish the stroke before starting all over again.

The teasing left William a mess. After the third time, he could no longer take it. He kept his one hand between his teeth, a fist to stifle his moans, but he took his other and attempted to place it on Nicola’s head. As soon as he even tried, Nicola pulled away and looked up at him with a playful, mischievous smirk.

William wanted to weep. He bucked his hips as much as he could, finding nothing more to thrust into than the empty air above his member. As Nicola had always done, Nicola was going to dictate the pace of the night’s coupling, and the fact of the matter was that William simply had to suffer through the teasing.

Nicola gave William’s manhood a final licking, though this time he was slower and more thorough. He made sure that his spit made every inch of William’s cock gleam in the pale light of _la luna_ before he moved in and wrapped his lips around William’s cock-head while humming contentedly.

William seemed to convulse atop the sheets. His back arched off of the bed. His toes curled as he bit harder into his fist to choke back a moan that was threatening, despite the makeshift gag, to be ripped from his throat.

Nicola looked up with a smirk, his dark eyes deceptively innocent. He was certainly enjoying the torment that he was inflicting upon poor William.

Nicola swirled his tongue around the head of William’s cock, though he made sure to lap up William’s pre-come. He savoured the flavour of William’s manhood, relishing the fact that it was in his mouth. Nicola was wise enough to grip William’s thighs so that the Englishman could neither squirm as much as he wanted nor thrust into the warm wetness that no doubt his cock desired.

Nicola pressed his tongue to the slit of William’s member, enjoying, greatly, the salty-sweet tang of the Englishman’s pre-come. William whimpered at the strange sensation of having a tongue down his slit, where it had no business being. It was an odd feeling, albeit, a fantastic one.

Once again, as in so many things, Nicola had gotten the better of William. Prior to these trysts with Nicola, after all, William had never had any other experiences with other men.

Had William known then the exquisite pleasures of lying with others like him, he would have done so long ago. He would have done so _now_ given half the chance, if only to prevent Nicola’s seemingly-mystical ability to make him melt into putty with the smallest of licks.

William removed the fist from his mouth and gritted his teeth, forcing himself to remain silent despite the pleasure coursing through his veins and fogging his mind.

Nicola, on the other hand, looked up at William and noted that the Englishman had regained some composure. That simply could not stand. In one swift, well-practised motion, Nicola swallowed William’s entire manhood, head, crown, shaft and all.

William was unable to suppress the gasp that had escaped him then. The warm wetness of Nicola’s mouth had enveloped his entirety and the sheer pleasure of that sensation left very little space for coherent thought. The fact that Nicola had made sure he could not move his legs at all only amplified the sensations tenfold.

The fact that William was denied the ability to thrust deeper into the immensely desirable warmth of Nicola’s throat was simply maddening to him.

William realized that he was entirely at the mercy of whatever it was that Nicola decided to do to him next. William’s mouth opened in a silent scream as Nicola decided to take his breath away.

Nicola hummed once again. Only this time, now that the entirety of William’s cock was in his mouth, the sensation was amplified tenfold, and again, William had to bite his fist to prevent his cry of pleasure.

Nicola then began to move his mouth up and down William’s shaft. Never once did he allow himself to simply just suckle on the formidable piece of maleness. He also licked the underside lovingly, and he savoured the unique flavour that only a man, that only _Will_ could produce.

Nicola hummed again in satisfaction as William writhed on the bed, unable to do much more than whimper at what Nicola was doing to him.

Nicola could not help but smirk when he felt the member in his mouth begin to swell and pulse, signalling an imminent spilling of seed. William’s eyes flew open and he whispered, “ _Caro mio_ , I am coming!”

If William’s aim had been to keep quiet, he had failed. The loudness of his voice earned him a painful pinch to the groin from Nicola, but more than that, Nicola removed his mouth from around William’s member.

Nicola looked at William. Spit and pre-come dangled in a single, glistening rope that hung suspended between the tip of William’s cock and Nicola’s lower lip. Simply put, William found the sight so sinfully delectable that he was sure he was being seduced by an incubus.

William whimpered as soon as he realized that his cock was aching for relief that had not come. He wanted to come, but he found quickly that he could not. He could not come without Nicola’s mouth around his manhood. He could not come with the warm wetness of Nicola sucking at him in an attempt to drain him of all the seed that he contained.

William could not cum with only Nicola’s warm breath ghosting over his turgid flesh and no more. In vain, William thrust his hips into the empty air.

Once Nicola was satisfied that William’s imminent orgasm had passed, he again locked his lips around the crown of William’s cock and suckled it. Again, Nicola held William down, preventing William from taking matters into his own hands and thrusting into the immensely pleasurable depths of Nicola’s mouth and throat.

William struggled against Nicola’s grip but he very quickly found that it was an exercise in futility. He whimpered and whined and struggled, but Nicola was far stronger than he, and it wasn’t too much trouble for the Italian to keep his hips immobile.

Once again, Nicola started to work on William’s cock by moving his mouth up and down its stiff length. He sucked and licked lovingly at the same time. It took mere moments, and William felt as though he was going to explode with rapturous pleasure. He found himself, very quickly, riding the edge of orgasm once again.

This time, however, William did not call out his warning. He did not speak in the hopes that Nicola would accidentally give him release.

No sooner than the thought had crossed William’s mind than his hopes were dashed. As soon as his cock started swelling once more, Nicola pulled off of it and looked at him with such a sultry and mischievous gaze that his cock throbbed and pulsed but did no more.

Nicola crawled over the bed. He slotted his legs between William’s and removed his own breeches—pyjamas—as he did. When he was done, both him and William were fully naked. Of course, Nicola lay on top of William, lazily drawing circles on William’s chest with his index finger while his legs kept William’s legs apart and unable to thrust.

William whimpered from the sheer torture. His pleasure was dangled in front of him yet denied from him all the same. He looked into Nicola’s dark eyes only to find Nicola smirking.

Nicola pressed his lips against William’s, only this time, he slid his tongue into William’s mouth allowing the Englishman to taste himself on Nicola’s tongue. William moaned at the sheer filthiness of what they had just done.

“Tell me, _bello_ ,” said Nicola, stroking the side of William’s face when they parted for breath. He could still taste the unique flavour of William on his tongue. “How would you like me to get you to come?”

Before William could answer, Nicola pressed two fingers insistently to his lips. Obediently, and greedily, William sucked on the digits. Nicola’s other hand, in the meantime, travelled down William’s torso before grasping William’s cock in a tight, vicious grip.

William looked at Nicola, eyes wide, as his lips parted in a silent moan. Nicola was satisfied that his fingers were slicked enough. He dipped his other hand in between William’s thighs and pressed against William’s most private sanctum. The tight, warm, twitching entrance that only Nicola had ever breached.

William pressed his lips to Nicola’s before breathlessly, he exclaimed, “With your manhood buried within me, _caro mio_.”

“It shall be my pleasure, _bello_ ,” said Nicola, with a triumphant smirk on his face. He had won yet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woot! Chapter of smut! :3.
> 
> There was some angst in the beginning, but I think you all deserve this brief reprieve from what's to come. :3. After they have sex, things are only going to get worse as time goes on. >:]. I'm not sure many of you would rather appreciate that. :D.
> 
> Anyway. I'd like to know what you thought of this chapter! What do you think of Nicola's conflict about William? What do you think of what he did to Bianca? Do you think that was entirely out of character? Or do you think that if Nico had had the power to keep Bianca from joining the hunters, he would have used it? What do you think of the blowjob that Nicola gave William? :3. Was it hot?
> 
> As always, drop me a kudos if you liked the story so far! I can't promise a chapter next week because the next two weeks are going to be final exams for me, but leave me a comment if you like me and want me to read your thoughts about the chapter! I'd love to read them. <3.


	4. God is Dead

_But that whoever should not seek the Lord, the God of Israel, should be put to death, whether young or old, man or woman._ _—2 Chronicles 15:13_

Nicola grinned at William, squeezing his fingers around the base of the Englishman’s cock as his teeth sparkled in the pale light of _la luna_. William’s lips parted in a groan, but Nicola caught them in his own, muffling the sound of William’s pleasure.

Nicola pulled away and clucked his tongue. He shook his head and looked upon William with a fond amusement. “Quiet,” he said, the word both a gentle reminder to keep their secrecy and a tease.

Truth be told, Nicola was challenging William to remain silent despite the pleasure surging through his veins. Perhaps it was futile to even try, but William pursed his lips and nodded.

Nicola smirked. His eyes twinkled with mischief as he darted back in and pressed his lips to where William’s jaw met the lobe of his ear. He nibbled the flesh and licked it, leaving a trail of moisture that, as far as William was concerned, felt as though it was on fire.

William could not help but stifle a groan at Nicola’s ministrations. His body had long since betrayed him. His arms lay rigid and mostly useless to either side of him while his fingers were locked into fists. The silken sheets of the bed were tangled in between William’s slender digits, and it seemed as though no force in the world could pry them free.

Nicola descended William’s body. His lips traced the contours of William’s jaw and the curve of William’s neck. He peppered the hollow of William’s collarbone with kisses, and nibbled on the skin that was just above the bone. He rained those same light kisses down the centre of William’s chest, to the sound of barely-audible gasps from the Englishman.

Nicola had to admit that taking his time with William more than satisfied him. The Englishman was as putty in his hands. His slow stroking of William’s cock on top of everything else he did, made sure that William’s sharp wit could not give any words to William’s tongue.

Had they been doing anything else, Nicola would not have minded William’s sharp wit. In fact he rather appreciated having someone to bandy insults around with. Right now, however, Nicola was more interested in exerting his dominance over William.

Part of that dominance, Nicola decided, was leaving a mark on William. Nicola grinned to himself as he began to suck on the flesh of William’s chest, drawing blood to the surface and marking his love with bruises shaped much like his lips.

Nicola was sure that against William’s rather pale skin, the bruises would come to bloom into rather spectacular colours. His only regret was that in the milky light of _la luna_ , the bruises hadn’t yet blossomed into their full glory.

Nicola pulled the fingers of his other hand from between William’s thighs and traced the outlines of his lips on William’s chest. His soft, feather-light touches elicited whimpers and muffled moans from William’s open mouth.

All along the firm flesh of William’s chest and down the valley between the pairs of muscles that paraded down the length of William’s stomach, Nicola pressed his lips and left his marks. Nicola did not stop until his lips had touched the mound of flesh around the base of William’s cock.

Nicola pulled away at the last moment, drinking in the utterly pitiful sounds of William’s stifled moaning with relish and delight. Nicola’s cock, bobbing up and down between his legs, seemed to stiffen even more.

Nicola was certain that were his hands not busy with his relentless teasing of William, he would have reached down and stroked himself. It was for the better, however, that he did not touch his own cock. Nicola did not wish to come too early. If anything, Nicola wanted to prolong his own suffering only so that he could lengthen William’s torture as much as he safely could.

Nicola reversed the journey he’d taken to the base of William’s cock, only this time, he did not kiss William’s flesh, he licked it. He dragged his tongue along the hot, flushed, sweaty flesh of his lover. The unique salty flavour of William’s sweat, as filthy as it was, only made Nicola want more.

William squirmed upon the sheets. His back arched off of the bed. The pleasure that Nicola gave him simply by licking him was rapturous. Wherever Nicola’s tongue went, it left a trail of moisture that felt like liquid sensual heat to William.

William could not help but gasp when he felt Nicola’s warm, wet mouth latch onto one of his nipples. He whimpered and writhed as Nicola began to suckle on the tiny, firm nub of flesh.

Nicola swirled his tongue around William’s fully-erect nipple. He nibbled at the flesh, grazed the skin of William’s chest with his teeth. He delighted in the exquisite whimpers that he managed to elicit from William. With his free hand, Nicola rubbed gentle circles around William’s other nipple, delighted to hear William’s whimpering increase twofold.

William’s mind was an utter mess. He could not even put together the most basic of coherent thoughts. Instead, each time that Nicola’s teeth grazed the tender skin of his nipple, there was only one thing that echoed in his mind: _more_.

The way that William whimpered when Nicola pulled away from him was so pathetic that Nicola could not help but chuckle. Nicola paid no heed to the pleading look that William shot him. He looked down at his work, grinning in satisfaction that the bruises, the hickeys, were beginning to take on a more vivid colour.

Nicola traced the fingers of his one hand along the chiseled outlines of William’s musculature and sighed. If only what they did was not sinful, Nicola would have gladly marked William in more visible spots. Nicola would have let the world know that William belonged to him. As it was, however, what they did was an abomination unto the Lord and deserving of death by the Law.

His fingers splayed against the heaving flesh of William’s belly, Nicola could no longer deny that he desired William on a level that far transcended his most basic and physical wanting of the others that had come before the Englishman. Those thoughts fresh on his mind, he clambered off of the bed and knelt in between William’s legs.

Nicola chased the unwelcome thoughts of being in love with the Englishman out of his head. He looked up at his lover and watched as William craned his neck to look at whatever it was that Nicola was planning.

Big, bright blue eyes looked into Nicola’s own dark ones. All that he had to do to draw a groan and an exhalation of surrender from William was wink and smirk. All Nicola had to do to gain himself an exquisite gasp, however, was place a kiss on the head of William’s cock.

As Nicola had predicted, the moment his lips touched the sensitive crown of William’s member, it spurted a glob of pre-cum onto his tongue and began to swell. Nicola, however, had no intentions of letting William come with a hand around his cock. If William was going to come tonight, Nicola was dedicated to ensuring that William would do it only while being fucked.

Such was the fate that William had asked for, after all.

Nicola grinned once again as he lowered himself between William’s thighs. He felt adventurous—daring, even. Languidly, Nicola traced his tongue along the curve of William’s thigh, bringing his face tantalizingly close to William’s cock.

Nicola, however, had no intention yet of giving William reprieve from the relentless teasing. He dragged his tongue along the skin of William’s other thigh before finally, he placed his lips on the smooth skin of William’s nuts. Nicola relished the rather strange but pleasant sensation of William’s nuts rolling across his tongue.

Nicola could not help but think to himself how much power he had over William. That William trusted Nicola enough to let him play so freely with his precious jewels was a rather profound realization for Nicola.

Nicola decided that he would reward that trust with a tad more torment. He suckled on both of William’s nuts gently, one after the other. As his tongue swirled around the sensitive skin, William writhed on the bed in pleasure.

With a grin on his face, Nicola pulled away from William’s nuts. He lowered himself and dove back in. He pressed his tongue against that sensitive spot between William’s cock and his most private entrance. Nicola was not disappointed by the way that William squealed in despair and pleasure at the sensation of Nicola’s tongue on his flesh.

William threw his head back in pleasure only to whimper when he felt Nicola’s hand abandon his cock. He wanted it back there. Had Nicola tugged on his cock a little more, he would have gone over the edge of release. William wanted nothing more than to spill the seed roiling in his nuts.

William grunted in alarm when Nicola gripped his thighs and forced them apart. The Italian was intent on moving William’s legs out of the way. William could not help the heat that welled in his face when Nicola pulled his legs apart, raised them into the air, and folded them over him.

William felt like a pretzel, but Nicola was not yet done. Nicola’s hands left his legs only to grab his own hands. Nicola placed William’s fingers on the backs of his knees. The message was clear. Nicola wanted him to hold his legs in the air.

Anyone with more traditional sensibilities would have found the position quite shameful. A man spreading his legs wider than a woman ready to be bred was simply unacceptable; it was disdainful. William didn’t care, but he could not help but feel conscious about how his most private of places was now exposed to the air and Nicola’s discerning gaze.

As much as William found himself ashamed to admit it, his entrance was pulsating and quivering in anticipation for what was to come. He had no qualms about lying with another man, nor did he have any objections against being _fucked_ by another man instead of doing the fucking. What William was embarrassed by was his apparent _eagerness_ to get his tight hole pounded into submission.

William watched with anticipation, his cock bobbing helplessly in the air as Nicola’s lips turned up in a smirk from the sight of William’s hole winking at him. William heard an embarrassing squeal escape his throat as Nicola grabbed his hips and pulled him to the edge of the bed. He held his breath when he felt Nicola’s warm breath drifting tantalizingly across his skin.

Nicola breathed in the unique musk of William’s ass, feeling shame warm his stomach and his face as he relished the clean, but at the same time downright filthy, scent.

William whimpered as Nicola’s warm breath ghosted over his hole. He had not realized just how much he wanted whatever was coming next. There was a beast within William that clamoured for his hole to be filled. Whether it was with a finger or four or a thick Italian cock, he didn’t care. There was an emptiness and an itch deep inside his passage, and the only way to get it scratched, William knew, was for him to be filled.

William shifted where he lay on the bed. He thrust his hips forward, inadvertently pressing Nicola’s nose and mouth against the cleft of his ass. Nicola grunted in surprise and swatted one of his cheeks, but before the Italian could move away from the awkward situation, an incredibly filthy thought crossed his mind.

Nicola was well aware that he should have been disgusted by the idea, though instead, he felt aroused beyond belief by it. He supposed William’s hole was clean enough from the smell of it. His stomach rebelled against him, but he persevered with the strength his arousal gave him.

Nicola pressed his tongue against William’s quivering hole, drawing a shuddering gasp from William. The taste was strange and entirely not what Nicola expected. He certainly didn’t expect the strangled scream of delight that involuntarily slipped William’s lips when he licked William’s entrance.

When the thought had crossed Nicola’s mind to lick William’s hole, he had been apprehensive. He thought that he would find an entirely filthy and disgusting taste on the end of his tongue. Instead, what he found was a flavour not at all disgusting, even though it was slightly disconcerting because of its novelty.

Nicola was relieved that William seemed almost excessively clean in his nether regions. This was the reason, he was convinced, why William didn’t taste like excrement. William tasted salty-sweet, with an earthy, musky flavour that was strange on Nicola’s tongue, though he believed that he could get used to it.

Nicola swirled his tongue around William’s hole, delighted at the way that it quivered and trembled even more under his ministrations. His cock throbbed at the way that William’s hole seemed to be trying to coax his tongue deeper. He grinned at the way that William squirmed, trying, and only just succeeding, to not shout out in pleasure.

William did not believe in the God that Nicola believed in, but even that was no bar to him finding whatever it was that Nicola was doing to him to be utterly sinful. Needless to say, he was powerless to stop the Italian from doing it.

The pleasure that was radiating from William’s hole as Nicola’s warm tongue swept over it and around it was too much to bear; it was rapturous. The pleasure stole William’s words and his inhibitions from him. He could only hold his legs up and spread them further apart in a bid to entice Nicola to forage deeper.

Nicola was only too glad to indulge William’s desperate pleas. He pulled William’s cheeks apart and stabbed his tongue into the quivering pucker. The strange sensation elicited a gasp from the Englishman, as well as a glob of pre-come that dripped onto William’s belly.

Nicola could not keep track of time as he stabbed his tongue repeatedly into William’s entrance. He could feel the ring of muscle loosen up around his tongue, and he felt his cock throb at the prospect of sliding into William with little resistance.

Nicola pried apart William’s cheeks even further. He pressed his face as far as it could go in the cleft of William’s ass. His tongue wriggled deeper into his lover.

William’s bucking of his hips became more frantic at the deeper invasion. His stifled moaning and groaning became more insistent. He was so very close, but the itch inside him had come back, his body no longer satisfied with just Nicola’s tongue.

The hunger  for cock of the beast within William returned twofold. The sheer _need_ to get his hole, his _cunt_ , filled with Nicola’s veritable weapon turned his knees to jelly and made him into putty in Nicola’s fingers.

Nicola decided at the spur of the moment that he had had enough of teasing William, and by extension, himself. His cock was as hard as it could possibly get, and there was already a growing puddle of slick pre-come on the floor between his knees.

Nicola was, without doubt, more than ready to plunge his stiff member into William. He swirled his tongue one final time around William’s entrance before he rose to his feet and set his eyes upon William’s beet-red face.

Nicola could not help but grin at the sight of William’s lower lip, swollen because of how much William had bitten into it to stifle his cries of pleasure. His cock throbbed at the sight of the tears brimming at the corners of William’s eyes. He was well aware that those tears were not from genuine distress, but from desperation to come.

“That was absolutely filthy,” breathed Nicola, creeping over the bed slowly. He pressed his lips to William’s. William made a sound of protest for the last thing he wanted to do was kiss Nicola, considering where the Italian’s lips had been only moments ago.

William’s horror was short-lived, however. He tasted himself on Nicola’s lips and on Nicola’s tongue. Though the taste was strange, it was not as disgusting as he had thought it would be. Perhaps there was something to his father’s advice to clean himself out before partaking in buggery with other men.

When finally the two young men parted for breath, William could only look at Nicola, stunned speechless. He could not believe that they had just done whatever it was that they had just done. The feeling of Nicola’s tongue sweeping across the sensitive flesh of his pucker was still there, a phantom sensation in the cool wind that swept across his trembling hole.

William could not deny that it was the most fantastic thing he had ever experienced, but that did not change the fact that it was also probably the most filthy. “I know,” said William after a moment. He spread his legs as far apart as they could go. The thought of Nicola’s tongue fucking him had turned his mind to something rather thicker, firmer, and larger being plunged into his tightness.

William bit his lower lip. It was the most he could do to keep himself from moaning like a bitch in heat. There was no denying that he wanted Nicola’s sizable cock inside of him as soon as it could possibly be.

“I loved it,” said the two young men at the same time. Silence stretched between them as they looked at each other in shock. The tension that came between them was so thick that William was sure he could cut through the air itself with a knife.

Before William knew what was happening, Nicola’s lips were back upon his. Their tongues slid against each other. They were both trying to gain purchase over the other, though as always, Nicola was winning. William had never once wrenched dominance from Nicola.

Nicola’s hands found their way to William’s cheeks. His fingers cupped the supple flesh before prying apart the tender globes. William felt heat rush to his face as Nicola bared his hole to make it easier to fuck.

“Please,” muttered William breathlessly when he and Nicola pulled apart. “Please fuck me, _caro mio_ ,” he said. The pleading in William’s voice was the trigger that Nicola needed. Something snapped within him and the beast he’d been struggling to control the whole night reared its head and roared—as quietly as it could, of course.

In one smooth motion, Nicola pressed the head of his cock against William’s entrance and pushed it in. He pressed his lips to William’s as they both cried out into the other’s mouth. They each muffled the other’s scream of pleasure, but it was for the best, as they were sure that they would have woken the entire manor otherwise.

Nicola thrust his hips forward, not stopping once as he slowly impaled William on his cock. He did not stop until he was buried hilt-deep inside of his lover. Only then did he pause to give William time to adjust to his formidable length and girth.

This was not the first time that Nicola and William had coupled in this way, but it was certainly the first in a long while. The last few weeks had been busy for both of them, and they had only managed to sneak enough time away from their duties to swallow each other’s seed or milk each other the old-fashioned way.

Needless to say, Nicola was thrilled to have William’s tight heat surrounding his cock once more. By the look of utter bliss on William’s face, however, Nicola was not so sure he was more thrilled about the state of affairs than his lover.

When Nicola finally felt William’s body relax, he began to slowly move his cock inside of the Englishman. He thrust his hips in slow, gentle motions, even moving his hips around to make sure that his cock rubbed against every nook and cranny of William’s tight channel.

Nicola deliberately set his pace slow, and his thrusting gentle. He was not afraid to fuck William with his absolute most strength since the bed was sturdy enough not to creak, but he was enjoying toying with his lover, and had he fucked William in the way he _desired_ to fuck the Englishman, he would not have lasted very long.

The way that William writhed and squirmed underneath Nicola as he languidly moved his cock into and out of William’s hole with gradually longer and longer strokes was entirely too delicious to pass up.

Nicola slowly pulled his cock out of William. He stopped only when the crown of his cock-head rested on the inner side of William’s entrance. With a smirk on his lips that William did not notice, he angled his hips and thrust his cock slowly into William.

William’s eyes fluttered open at the feeling of Nicola’s cock rubbing against his prostate for the entire length of the thrust. He had had enough of the torture. He had had enough of the teasing. The relentless grazing against his button was the final straw. He was about ready to cry. “ _Please_ ,” he breathed, eyes pleading with Nicola, “ _Harder!_ ”

Nicola was only too glad to oblige. He pressed his lips to William’s as he pulled his cock entirely out of his lover. His cock popped out of William with a lewd squelch but before he drove it in, he held the head against William’s trembling hole for a moment. He drank in the delicious sound of William begging with whispered words to get fucked.

Nicola silenced William with yet another kiss and slammed his member home. William convulsed underneath him. He’d angled his cock just right so it would ram right into that special spot inside of William, and the effect was just as he had desired. William could do naught but whimper into his mouth as they began to kiss in earnest.

Nicola freed his fingers from William’s ass. He set them to roaming the Englishman’s body, pressing them into the firm flesh of William’s stomach. He traced his fingers along the ridges of William’s musculature, but there, his touch was feather-light and it simply drove William mad with want.

Nicola’s fingers wandered even higher, toying with William’s flesh as William’s hole tightened around his cock. Nicola groaned, ramming his manhood as hard as he could into William. Each thrust elicited a gasp from William’s throat and a moan from his own.

Like much else in the world, the coupling of the two young men could only last for so long. The night was not eternal, and dawn was just around the corner. Nicola also did not have the willpower to last for much longer.

Nicola could only ram his cock into William’s tight heat a finite number of times before he felt the need to come burn in his loins like a fire that simply refused to be ignored. Nicola could only trace gentle, teasing circles around William’s nipples for so long before William’s dribbling cock began to swell, the come within him roiling, his nuts aching for release.

With a grunt, Nicola began to speed up his thrusting. For once, he allowed the beast within him to take over for once. The beast took control with relish that surprised even Nicola himself. He had always been brought up with the sensibilities of the aristocracy. The creature within him was more animal, lower even than the peasantry, and reputation held no meaning for it.

Nicola thrust his manhood viciously into William. Each movement of his hips was met with a muffled slap as his flesh struck William’s. The noise did not matter anymore. Nicola had let the beast gain purchase. If their fucking had not yet drawn anyone else in the manor to wakefulness, it would certainly not do so now.

Nicola grunted with each thrust. He pulled his member out into the cool air only to ram it into William moments later, impaling the Englishman. His cock strained in the cold breeze one moment, then it was wrapped in its entirety by the addictive heat of William’s most private place the next.

William, on the other hand, had long since lost the ability to make anything more than the most guttural of moans and groans, and the most pathetic of whimpers and whines. He was beyond caring. The itch that burned inside of him was being scratched each time that Nicola’s cock struck that sweet spot inside of him.

William tensed all over as he felt the release he’d been seeking for the entire night begin to come to him. His cock swelled as Nicola fucked him into true submission. His cock throbbed with each of Nicola’s thrusts that invariably hit that button within him that sent shocks of pleasure coursing through his body.

William involuntarily tossed his head back as his mouth fell open in a silent scream of rapturous pleasure. Hot come began to fountain out of his cock. His violent fucking at the hands of Nicola made his cock bob up and down, making sure that his virile seed flew everywhere it could.

William’s tongue darted out to catch a glob of the pearlescent fluid a it fell toward his face. He had tasted his come before, and despite its strange taste, it was delicious. On the one hand, its taste was disgusting compared to the rich food he partook in at his father’s table, but on the other, it was the most delectable thing that ever graced his tongue, second only to Nicola’s.

A whimper slipped Nicola’s throat as he felt William come underneath him. He slowed his thrusts as William’s quivering entrance clamped down on the hilt of his cock. William’s heat tightened and spasmed all around him, massaging his length and milking it for all it contained. He opened his mouth, panting, as his pleasure reached an explosive crescendo.

With a grunt, Nicola grabbed William’s hips and shoved his cock into William as far as it could go. Nicola relished the feeling of his manhood swelling inside of William. He groaned in satisfaction.

Though perhaps his fertility was being wasted in the ass of another man, Nicola did not care. He was marking William as his own. Come erupted out of his cock, spurt after spurt, pooling inside the Englishman and filling him to the brink. Both Nicola and William thought that he would not stop coming, but eventually, the flood of seed slowed to a dribble and ultimately, to a halt.

Nicola pulled out of William only to drop onto the bed right next to the Englishman. His eyes drifted up, searching William’s face for any disgust at the absolute filth that they had just done. Instead of the horror he had expected, William’s face seemed peaceful and satisfied.

With a groan, William released his legs and allowed them to fall, dangling them over the side of the bed. He made no motion to close them. He loved the feeling of Nicola’s come slowly dripping out of his abused hole. The sensation made him feel like a cheap whore, but at the same time, inexplicably, it made him happy.

William placed his hand on his stomach as he slowly drifted down from the pinnacle of orgasmic bliss. He was so filled and content, the hunger of the beast within him satisfied, that he was practically aglow from the rather vicious coupling he’d just enjoyed.

William’s eyes lit up with a mischievous idea. He grabbed Nicola’s hand, much to the surprise of the Italian.

Gently, William pressed Nicola’s fingers to his belly. He dragged the Italian’s slender digits through the cum that was there, smearing it all around. “Look, Nicola,” he said, breathless but with a chuckle in his words; “You spilt your seed so deep within me it may have quickened and made me heavy with child.”

The look of horror on Nicola’s face when he snatched back his hand was definitely not the reaction that William had anticipated. Nicola hissed at him, “ _Blasphemy!_ ” much to William’s surprise. The two young men recoiled from each other, taken unprepared by what had just transpired between them.

For a moment, Nicola and William stared into each other’s eyes. Nicola’s dark eyes were gleaming with anger, whilst William’s were confused and concerned. The silence stretched between them until it became uncomfortable and finally, the tension snapped. The expression on Nicola’s face softened, and an involuntary sigh of relief slipped from William’s lips.

The two young men stared at the ceiling, unwilling to break the silence yet. The scuffle over William’s jest had distracted them, but they were still riding on the afterglow of their coupling. When at last they could no longer milk their joining for the last of its bliss, they turned to each other.

William sighed and looked into Nicola’s eyes. “How long are we going to do _this_?” said William, gesturing at Nicola, then at himself. Nicola’s reaction only moments earlier had made the Englishman rather wary of what he was saying.

Part of William wanted to call their affair what it was, but part of him was also unwilling to admit that whatever it was happening between the two of them was meaningless.

Nicola rolled over onto his side and looked into William’s eyes. He propped himself up on his elbow and smirked. His face was rather amused—a strange thing considering the gravity of William’s question—and one of his eyebrows was cocked. “What do you mean?” said Nicola with a lazy smile, “Coupling in secret under the cover of night?”

William could not help but gawk at Nicola for a moment. No more than half an hour past, Nicola had treated their trysts as though they were the most dangerous weapon in the word. Now, however, he was speaking of them freely.

William slowly shook his head. “No,” he said, a small smile dancing on his lips. “Not the coupling part.” He laughed nervously as Nicola’s eyes followed his every little move. “I certainly hope that part will yet go on for as long as it can.”

William sighed and looked away. He could no longer keep Nicola’s gaze, especially when he knew that what he was about to ask would change the tone of the conversation entirely. “How long will we be hiding, Nico?” he said, shivering when he felt a glob of Nicola’s come drip from his hole.

William sighed. He could not believe what he was about to confess to Nicola. He had told himself that he would hide the truth until he no longer could. He had not thought he would fail at that so easily. “What if I don’t want to keep hiding?” he said, looking up at the ceiling, “What if I feel something for you that I have never felt before?”

Nicola froze where he lay on his side. The sly smirk on his face evaporated in an instant. He rolled over onto his back. It was _his_ turn to be unable to meet William’s eyes. When he spoke, his voice was shaky, and his words were uncertain. He did not like the feeling of not being in control. “I assure you, William,” said Nicola, in a tone more nervous and aggressive than he wanted; “These trysts are temporary.”

William felt as though a dagger had been thrust into his chest. He had thought that Nicola was beginning to feel the same for him. He had seen the sparkle in Nicola’s eyes. He had thought there was something special between them. “This will only last so long as we cannot find women to keep us company and give us good children in the eyes of the Church.”

William was convinced that the imaginary dagger that had been thrust into his chest was being twisted by Nicola’s words. William had not expected Nicola’s response to hurt so much, but he did not know why he had expected Nicola to return his feelings.

“William,” said Nicola, not even having the grace to look in William’s direction, “I am not a _finocchio._ ” Nicola spat out the word with such disdain that William felt a wave of cold fear wash over his body.

“I have a reputation to uphold as the vicious son of Ade di Angelo,” said Nicola, his fingers clenching into fists to either side of his body. William did not know it, but the words hurt Nicola, too. He physically felt uncomfortable with lying to William through his teeth. “Even if I did not have a reputation, I have my father’s to uphold.”

Nicola bared his teeth in a snarl that seemed so unlike him that William wondered, for a moment, if Nicola was possessed. Thankfully, the snarl was not directed at him, but at the ceiling. “What do you think those wretched dogs in Venice—in all of Italy, even—would do if they caught wind that the Merchant King’s son is a filthy cock-sucking _finocchio_?”

Once again, Nicola spoke the word as though it were the most detestable thing in the world. As far as he was concerned, however, it _was_. “Do not mistake me, William,” he said, “They _will_ say that _I_ am the one taking cock in my ass and use that to shame my father.”

Nicola turned and faced William. He saw such fear and hurt in the Englishman’s eyes that he couldn’t help but feel remorse. That was why he had refused to look into those bright sapphires to begin with. “Not to mention,” he said, “What we do is against the law. What we do is punishable by death.”

Silence stretched between the two of them. William’s turbulent emotions did not dissipate. Instead, they bubbled. They frothed as though they were whipped into a frenzy. Eventually, when the roiling emotions within him subsided, there was only one left: anger. William rose from the bed and glared at Nicola.

While William pointed an accusatory finger at the Italian, and his eyes flashed with seething rage and betrayal, he was not angry at Nicola. He was angry, without doubt, at the society that had produced such backward thinking in his lover.

Despite what everyone else said about Nicola, William had seen a softer, more gentle side of the Prince of Venice. He _hated_ the Church for making sure that Nicola was ashamed of that side of his. “Whether you like it or not,” said William, reaching in between his legs and smearing onto his fingers some of Nicola’s come still leaking from his entrance. “You _are_ a _finocchio_ and there is nothing wrong with that.”

William shook his head and snatched his clothes from where they were strewn about the room, where Nicola had tossed them. He didn’t care that his stomping around would wake anyone in the damn place. He didn’t think he could tolerate sneaking about any longer.

William spun around and glared at Nicola. “I _know_ that whatever it is that I feel for you, you feel for me as well. I see it in your eyes when you look at me! Don’t even try to deny it.”

William pulled his breeches on angrily before he walked over to the window. He turned once more to face Nicola with tears in his eyes. He took a deep breath. “If you are so blind that you cannot see the truth right in front of your face…”

William felt as though his heart was being torn from his chest. “Forget that we ever had this conversation,” he said. “Forget that we ever did anything together. Forget me. I’ll forget you. If you will deny the truth, then I want nothing more to do with you, Nicola di Angelo.”

William took another breath, though this one was ragged. He shuddered. He was bluffing. Gods he was bad at it, but he was bluffing. He wanted Nicola to say _something_. _Do_ something. Show him in _any_ way that he was not wrong to let his heart wander astray into Nicola’s fingers only to be crushed into dust.

William’s hopes were dashed when instead of answering him, Nicola lay on the bed, watching him with an unreadable expression. Nicola was as silent as the night itself.

William swung one of his legs over the windowsill. He could not go back on his words. Heaven knew he wanted nothing more than to fall groveling at Nicola’s feet, but he did not want to seem any more a pathetic fool in front of the Italian. He had already allowed himself to make enough mistakes. He did not want to reduce himself to even less because of feelings he thought were requited but apparently were not.

“Wait,” said Nicola. The words were barely louder than a whisper. They were barely audible, but they were enough for William. The Englishman froze. “Perhaps…”

Nicola took a deep breath. He could not even begin to think what was possessing him to say these things, but there was a part of him that simply could not tolerate the idea of William leaving his life for good. “Consider, perhaps, the chance situation that I, in some ways, feel the same things for you that you do for me.”

Nicola looked at William with pleading eyes. He did not want to say whatever it was that he wanted to say outright. It rebelled against everything he’d learned, everything he’d been taught, everything he knew to be right. When William nodded, the tiny motion sent relief flooding through Nicola’s body.

“It does not matter,” said Nicola, eyes boring into William’s. William was confused. “Even if, in this supposed situation, we were together in the way that only man and woman _should_ be, Italy is under the heel of the Church.” Nicola sighed and looked away.

“Even if we were to l—” Nicola gulped down the bile that rose in his throat. It was both so right and so wrong to say that detestable word. He persevered. He was stronger than this. “Even if we were to _love_ each other,” he said, “The church would crush us like the insignificant bugs that we are to them.”

“They will come for us,” said Nicola, looking meaningfully at William. “They will destroy us. It would be for the best that we remain like this. In secret. For fear of our lives.”

William could not help but smile inwardly at himself. He had not expected his gambit to work, but in the end, it had. He saw Nicola in an entirely different way, and a part of him felt rather happy that Nicola wanted to protect him.

However, William did not like the Church by any stretch of the imagination, and he did not want whatever it was that he felt for Nicola to be swept under the rug because of old men with archaic beliefs.

“Let them come,” said William as he removed himself from the windowsill. With slow, measured steps, William brought himself to stand before Nicola. They stared at each other for a moment before William bent over the bed and pressed his lips to the Italian’s.

William felt Nicola’s cock stir underneath him. He could not help but chuckle. Despite the gravity of their conversation, they were both still men, and the closeness only heightened their arousal. “I am not afraid of the Church,” said William, eyes burning with conviction.

“So long as whatever it is that I feel for you, _caro mio_ , burns bright within me” said William, tracing the length of Nicola’s jaw with his index finger; “I would long for the world to see it.”

William looked into Nicola’s eyes. Those beautiful dark eyes glimmered in the light of _la luna_ with something that William could not quite put a name to. “I might not know much about being with other people, but I feel deep within me that this is something that comes only once in a lifetime.”

Nicola could not help himself. He laughed in William’s face. At first, the Englishman was offended, until he realized that the laughter was derisive. It was a ludicrous answer. Nicola found it incredulous that someone could so boldly say they did not fear the Church and say it with absolute conviction. “You _should_ fear the Church,” said Nicola, shaking his head from side to side.

Nicola appreciated William’s idealism and optimism, but it was of no use to either of them if they ended up in the Church dungeons, or worse yet, dead. “The formidable wealth of your father and mine combined,” said Nicola, utterly serious with his words; “It’s nothing but a drop in the sea compared to the treasury of the Church. Not to mention the power it possesses here in Italy. You would do well to be afraid. It might well save your life.”

The entire time, William had been lying atop Nicola. Their noses had been hairsbreadths apart. “Would you like to hear a secret?” he said, rubbing his thumb over Nicola’s cheekbone before rolling over onto the bed beside the Italian. Nicola’s eyes followed William, a puzzled expression plain on his face.

“You see, my darling Bastard,” said William, with a smile at the look on Nicola’s face. “I don’t fear the Church for I am privy to knowledge that they, and perhaps, for now, _you_ , refuse to accept.” Nicola frowned at William. He could not think of anything that William could possibly know that the Church did not. “God is dead,” he said.

Nicola very nearly crashed his fist into William’s face. It was one thing that they had practically confessed _something_ to each other that night, but William was treading into the realm of heresy.

“Before you unleash your fury upon me,” said William, in a voice so light that Nicola could have been fooled into thinking the Englishman was not committing a grave sin; “There are Gods, but not the ones that your Church worships.”

“You see,” said William, tracing the line of Nicola’s jaw with a finger. “Powerful men are the gods now. The Queen. The governor. Our fathers. They have the money. They have the power. They have the means with which to change the world, to make it better, to bring miracles to the commonfolk. Your God can do nothing of the sort.”

“The Church is an institute of old men with old ideas. They cannot change the world because they do not wish to.” William shook his head and reached down, gripping Nicola’s hand as tightly as he could. “If they admit that they have been wrong about so many things from the beginning, their authority and power would be challenged. The Church would collapse. They cannot change the world because it would mean having to give up the luxuries they used lies to buy.”

“Who do you think feeds the poor and the hungry in Milan, Nicola?” said William, looking deeply into Nicola’s eyes. “My father.”

“Nonsense!” said Nicola, attempting to tug his wrist from William’s grip, only to find that the Englishman would not let go. “The Church feeds them. Each Sunday, I see the old nuns by the abbey handing out soup and bread to the hungry.”

William shook his head. “Where do you think the money comes from to buy those things?” William sighed. Part of him wanted to believe in the Church that Nicola did, but he had seen and discovered so much that he simply couldn’t. “The Church is rife with corruption. The Bishop pockets the offerings.”

“My father spends huge sums of money to buy the food that the abbey gives to the poor. He never gives them the money, only the supplies, because he knows that that way, the money could not be kept away by the Church’s greed.” William rubbed the back of Nicola’s hand with his thumb. “My father’s money makes sure that no one in Milan dies of hunger.”

“What does the Church do, Nicola?” said William, eyes boring into Nicola’s. “The Church offers salvation, but what else? What use is the false promise of paradise to a man with an empty stomach and empty coffers?”

“My father told me once,” said William. “Before, when he was a surgeon… My father told me that without fail, people would pray to their God and thank him for guiding my father’s hand during the surgery.”

“My father told me that he looked upon his hands and realized that it was all a delusion.” Nicola was becoming more and more uncomfortable with the topic of their conversation. “He never felt the hand of God guiding him. He realized that God was a story we agreed to tell ourselves again and again until it was true because it made us feel special.”

“God was a story that chased away the loneliness that we were alone in the world. It gave us the courage to face the creatures in the dark. It gave us a shining beacon of hope in a paradise that comes after death where our goodness is rewarded.”

“But we’ve come a long way, Nicola,” said William. “That beacon of hope that the Church made us believe in for so long is a hollow covenant. The darkness that the Church made us fear has been burned away by the light of our progress. There is nothing to fear in the shadows anymore.”

“Instead, what we must fear, _caro mio_ , are the people that would drag us back into the twilight of our ignorance, all so they could remain in power.”

Nicola turned away from William. He could not look into the Englishman’s eyes even though the words resonated with him. He refused to believe what William was saying even though he could hear the truth in the words.

Nicola was afraid. He was terrified of the fiery inferno that the Church promised to those that disobeyed her. The eternal damnation that the Church swore would come upon those that strayed from her path.

“God is dead, Nicola,” said William, shaking Nicola’s hand for emphasis. “Whatever gods there might be, if there are any, are mortals such as your father and mine. Remember that, because one day, the Church will lie trampled and broken in the dust as we rise above our crippling fear of the unknown, our bitter hatred of those who are different, and our unwavering belief that we are the centre of everything, put there by the hand of God himself, when we couldn’t be further from the truth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. It's been about a month since the last chapter of Immurement was released. :3. I hope you enjoyed this extra long one. I most definitely enjoyed writing it.
> 
> What do you think? Is it a good blend of erotica, moral quandary, and philosophical inquiry? What do you think will happen from here on out? Is anyone beginning to see what the central conflict will be in this story? >:]. Final question: who has already guessed the identity of the person that left the Bible for Nico to read? *cackles evilly*
> 
> Anyway, leave a kudos if you like the story, leave a comment if you want to make my day! <3\. I would love to hear your thoughts because that would be fantaaaaastic. :3.


	5. Dispensations

_For such are false Apostles, deceitful workers, transforming themselves into the apostles of Christ. And no marvel; for Satan himself is transformed into an angel of light.  
— 2 Corinthians 11:13-14_

“ _Benedícat vos omnípotens Deus, Pater, et Filius, et Spiritus Sanctus._ ” Nicola di Angelo was far beyond caring that the Archbishop was a man of god. Frankly, as far as he was concerned, the fat fucker could keel over dead and he couldn’t physically have cared less.

Not even the Archbishop—supposedly closer to God than everyone else in the damned church—was to be spared from Nicola di Angelo’s cynicism that day. It wasn’t his fault. It was Ade di Angelo’s fault. If not for his father’s insistence on getting a papal dispensation, Nicola would not have had to endure that morning’s heat.

The situation certainly was not helped by the fact that Bianca had insisted Nicola wear fanciful formal clothing to mass. She said something about putting on only one’s best before the Lord, but Nicola was of the mind that sweating like a pig under the noonday sun was by far not putting on his best.

In truth, it took all of Nicola’s willpower not to lean over to the woman nearest to him and fish her fan out of her hands. He was wealthy enough and powerful enough to buy one for her ten times as grand, and hire someone to skewer any idiot fool enough to challenge his honour for doing so.

Granted, Nicola would never have done such a horrid thing, but he had been stuck in at _Santa Maria delle Grazie_ for the last hour and was understandably irate. No thanks to his father, he was going to be stuck there for some more time yet because of the errand that he had to run.

Ade’s letter had arrived at the _palazzo_ the day after William had visited him in his room. Truth be told, in the week since, Nicola had not had the heart to face William, much less speak to him what his father’s command was. He supposed he should have expected it, considering that Talia had long been hinting at it.

“Amen,” said Nicola, glaring at the Archbishop whose jowls wiggled from side to side with each word that he spoke. It was no secret, at least among the people that formed Nicola’s inner circle, that he much despised the greedy pig.

The Archbishop had more than once threatened Nicola, Ade, and his household, somehow convinced that Nicola was a sexual deviant. Now, Nicola and a handful of other people knew it was indubitably true, but that was not the point. Nicola knew with absolute confidence that there was no evidence on the matter.

As far as Nicola could recall, there were only three men that he had slept with in his time in Milan. The first was a coachman that left after three weeks for a better life in Spain.

The second was a far less fortunate schoolteacher, who had somehow ended up dead in a ditch after Nicola had promised to donate money to the man’s ailing school as an act of good will. There was also, of course, William. Sweet, innocent William. Nicola couldn’t help but smile at the thought of the son of Apollo.

Regardless of Nicola’s affections for any of those men, especially William, if they even thought of going to the Archbishop with his secret, they would not have made it. Nicola did not believe in brute force, no, but he did believe that every man had his price.

Nicola could have easily paid the men whatever they desired that was within reason to keep them quiet. It was an investment into secrecy—a largely irrelevant one to the vast wealth that his father had already cultivated.

If, however, Nicola just so happened to fail, Ade di Angelo was a far less merciful man than he.

“ _Ite missa est_ ,” said the Archbishop, opening his arms to the congregation sat before him. Nicola was glad he had taken a seat in the second row, just in sight of the Archbishop, but far enough away that projectile sweat was not a problem.

The aristocracy seated in front of Nicola, however, were not so fortunate. Each and every pompous ass in the row before Nicola made a show of not even noticing.

The Archbishop clasped his hands together and ended the mass.

“ _Deo gratias_ ,” said the dark-haired woman standing by Nicola’s side. She wasn’t the one that had the silken fan Nicola wanted so badly to grab. No. Talia Basilio would not have been caught dead with any of those ridiculous accessories that most women around seemed to have.

Truth be told, Nicola wanted to be more like Talia. Unfortunately, his heritage and reputation restrained him. Talia’s refusal to dress in the same garb as her contemporaries allowed her to wear clothing far more appropriate to the weather than Nicola.

When Nicola turned to Talia, she looked at him sympathetically and dabbed at the sweat on his forehead with the only silken thing on her person—her handkerchief. “Nicola,” she said, in Nicola’s native Venetian, “Must we really do this today?” She placed a hand on his arm and gently squeezed it in solidarity.

“You know as well as I, Talia, that our fathers would skin us and be glad for it should we delay this much longer,” said Nicola. Talia rolled her eyes, but sighed in resignation. Nicola gently lowered her hand from his face and smiled at her gratefully. “I shall be fine. I’ve experienced worse in the crypts under the _palazzo_.”

While Nicola did not like the arranged marriage one bit, he was glad that it was with Talia. Had it been with any other woman, he would have protested the matter to his grave—no matter how beautiful or alluring they were. Their womanly charms held no appeal for him.

Talia, on the other hand, was one of the few persons that Nicola trusted. She knew his secret and kept it, but only because he knew hers. They had both caught each other staring far too much and far too longingly at each other’s siblings.

Talia and Nicola were, essentially, on the same boat. The punishment for homosexuality of the womanly kind was in fact far more lenient than what faced Nicola, though assuredly, the repercussions on the reputations of their respective fathers were bound to be equal. Besides, neither Nicola nor Talia wanted to face _any_ punishment, whatsoever.

“Shall we meet the Archbishop before he heads back to Rome?” said Nicola, holding out an arm for Talia. There was a clear grimace on his face—one echoed by the expression on Talia’s. Neither one of them wanted to meet with the Archbishop, but it was their last chance to retrieve the document that they required to validate their coming marriage.

“I _hate_ that fat pig,” said Talia, slipping into English to guard her words from most of the people around them. There were people in Milan that could speak Venetian well, but for the time being, the Queen’s English was more or less foreign to them. “Must we see him? Could we not instead see one of the other friars?”

Nicola pulled Talia along, the length of the pew as the people that were in between them and the aisle cleared away. “Surely the Archbishop would leave the dispensation with one of them before leaving.”

It was Nicola’s turn to roll his eyes. This was simply Talia grasping at straws to not have to meet with the detestable man. “You are aware that the Archbishop would not give up this chance to extort money from both our fathers, yes? Regardless of the surely-hefty sum they paid the Vatican to get this dispensation,” he said, patting Talia’s shoulder.

Talia huffed in annoyance. She and Nicola both were business-minded, and as much as they would have liked to think that the meeting with the Archbishop would be a simple affair, past experience made them doubt that. “Yes, yes,” said Talia in exasperation; “I have gold in my purse. Do you think that would be enough?”

Nicola pulled Talia close, looking into her eyes as he leaned down to whisper in her ear. “I’ve a secret to show you, love,” he said, eyes darting to the nearest nobleman that looked almost longingly at the two of them. He lowered his voice even further, “I have money on my person as well,” he said. He raised his voice afterwards. “I believe we should find somewhere more private.”

The nobleman’s eyes widened, his jaw dropped, and he looked more than a little scandalized by the implication that Talia and Nicola would have a sexual tryst _in the church_. Talia had caught on to what Nicola was doing almost instantly. She had the good grace to blush and fan herself with her fingers. “Nicola di Angelo!” she exclaimed, “You are making the woman in me blush!”

Inwardly, Talia was trying to make sense of what Nicola had just told her. She had certainly not heard the clinking of coins on Nicola’s person, nor had she seen him carrying a purse. She suspected foul play.

It was not until Nicola had pulled her into a rather secluded hallway—and pulled the door shut—that she realized the most likely place that Nicola was keeping the coin. “You did not, Nicola!” she exclaimed, genuinely flustered this time, though there was mirth in her eyes.

“As a matter of fact, Talia,” said Nicola, making sure to punctuate his words with a low moan just in case there was anyone that had decided to eavesdrop. Nicola pushed his hand down the front of his breeches and retrieved the sweat-drenched linen pouch of coins from underneath his scrotum. “I did.”

Talia pinned herself against the heavy wooden door and moaned. Nicola had been right that there was someone eavesdropping. Soon after, the sound of footsteps scurrying away from the doorway echoed in the empty corridor.

When both of Talia and Nicola were satisfied that their peeping tom was gone, Talia began to laugh in a decidedly un-ladylike fashion. Her cackling echoed down the thankfully-empty hallway. “I entirely forgot that the Archbishop loves to smell the coin whenever we hand it over,” she said, just _barely_ able to fight down another guffaw that was bubbling up from her stomach; “You are brilliant, Nicola!”

Nicola winked at her. “And that is why you are marrying me, no?” he said, with a genuine smile. “Surely it’s not for my money,” he said, as he tipped out the contents of the pouch onto his hand.

The coins had been soaking in the sweat from Nicola’s nuts for the past hour. If they did not yet smell of manly musk, Nicola could not fathom what could possibly make them smell like such. He was sure that the Archbishop would find the smell an unpleasant surprise.

Nicola slipped the coins into a second, far more extravagant, velvet-lined pouch that he had been carrying in his coat pocket. “Do you think he would notice the sweat?” he said, in genuine inquiry to Talia.

“That greedy bastard would take the gold even if it was covered in manure,” said Talia, shaking her head.

Nicola began to do up his breeches once more in an attempt to seem far more presentable, but Talia slapped his hand and mussed his hair. “Nicola!” she said; “I would have thought you of all people would know how good an opportunity you have created for us.”

“Listen,” said Talia. Nicola craned his neck and strained his ear. There were footsteps headed their way. “It is better to seem improper even in the house of God if it would convince the sheep and their shepherd out there that our union is born of genuine, passionate love,” she whispered.

Nicola sighed. He had to admit that Talia was right, but at the same time, he despised looking dishevelled. He was not about to begin enjoying it for the sake of keeping up appearances. “You do know you owe me for this, Talia, right?” he said, purposefully undoing one of the ties to his tunic as the footsteps inexorably approached the doorway.

Nicola took his thumb and smeared a tiny bit of his own spit on the side of his lip just as Talia grabbed him by the collar of his undershirt. He took the hint and pinned her against the wall, leaning in as close as he could without actually kissing her.

Talia placed her hand on Nicola’s groin. Once again, Nicola took the hint. He imagined William spread eagled underneath him, hole winking and eager for his formidable weapon. Nicola was hard in no time, and Talia was grimacing from the sensation of a hard cock against her hand.

The two of them heard the keys being turned in the door just as Talia pulled Nicola in for an _actual_ kiss. They pulled apart in faux-shock when the door swung open and revealed a rather scandalized priest.

Talia, much credit to her part, pushed Nicola away and had the grace to look embarrassed at being caught in such a compromising position. “Apologies, _monsignor_ ,” she stammered, eyes flicking every which way as though ashamed enough to not want to meet the friar’s eyes. “We know it is the house of the Lord, but I do not know what came over me, I could not keep my hands to myself!”

Nicola, on his part, acted the sly and confident player. “ _Buongiorno, monsignor,_ ” he said, recognizing in an instant the priest that had stumbled upon them.

Nevertheless, Nicola did not allow the mask on his face to slip. He wiped his lips with his hands, a trail of Talia’s saliva coming away with his thumb. He rubbed his hands clean against his breeches. “As you can see, _monsignor_ ,” said Nicola, sounding just the right amount of cocky and reticent; “I was unable to keep my hands off of my future wife. Apologies for our impropriety.”

“Ah,” said the priest, a rather elderly man with a lifetime of genuine happiness immortalized in the lines that crinkled at the edge of his eyes as he laughed. “It is fine,” said the priest.

Talia bristled at not being acknowledged, but she acted like the good wife-to-be and remained quiet. “So long as you keep aside your coupling until the night of your wedding, _signore_ di Angelo, I am sure the Lord can forgive this little thing.”

Nicola nodded as the priest patted him on the shoulder. He did not appreciate the touch, but he tried to seem as grateful as he could. “You are a lucky man, _signore_ ,” said the priest, “I am sure you shall produce beautiful children with your lady wife for the Lord.”

“ _Grazie, monsignor_ ,” said Nicola, as he held his arm out for Talia. They walked past the priest who shook his head and laughed to himself on the way to do whatever it was that he was going to. “That was a brilliant plan,” said Nicola, ignoring the stares of the new crowd that filled the church for the mass. “But I still don’t like looking so unkempt.”

\----------

“So,” said the Archbishop, his jowls jiggling as he spoke in the most disgusting way that Nicola thought possible. The Archbishop was sweating like the greedy pig that he was, though it meant that Nicola and Talia were, as well.

Why the fat fuck had decided to have a fire blazing in the hearth in the hot morning was beyond either of the two. “Tell me,” said the Archbishop, “Is there a good reason that I should give the deviant this Papal dispensation?”

“ _Arcivescovo_ ,” said Nicola, unable to prevent a note of exasperation from slipping into his words. “How many times must I explain to you that I am not a deviant? My father and uncle arranged this marriage, yes, but not for the reasons that you seem to think.”

“Ade and Giove did not arrange this marriage in order to save face,” said Nicola, just _barely_ able to contain the anger that was bubbling in his veins. “This marriage may be arranged, but Talia has always been a good friend of mine and over the years I have fallen in love with her.”

“Is that so?” said the Archbishop, turning his detestable, beady gaze to Talia. She was trying her best to seem like the model of a meek woman. “Tell me, then, little _prince_ ” said the Archbishop, with a villainous gleam in his eye that Nicola did not like one bit; “Does not the thought of her supple breasts make the blood in your veins warm?”

Nicola took a deep breath, wilfully making his eyes dart to Talia’s chest. “Does not the thought of the sweetness of her womanhood make your cock stir?” The Archbishop laughed at Nicola’ strained expression.

“Does not the thought of taking her maidenhead rouse a beast within you—one that exists within each man not embroiled in despicable sin—that would like nothing more than to do God’s good work of creating children after his image?” said the Archbishop, leaning forward across his desk with a smirk.

Nicola did not answer the Archbishop with words. He could not bring himself to. He was sure he would only say something he would regret. Instead, he shot a cold glare at the loathsome pig that somehow thought that robes with golden embroidery lifted him above Nicola. “As I thought,” said the Archbishop.

“It will take more than this meagre gold to convince the hand of God to move mine to give you this dispensation,” said the Archbishop, sniffing the pouch of Nicola’s gold. The Archbishop blinked and sniffed it again, grimacing at the smell.

Nicola and Talia shared a knowing glance, and it took all of their willpower to not laugh. “I will require proof that the two of you are truly, as you say, ‘ _in love’_ , with each other.” The Archbishop leaned even further forward and steepled his fingers. “ _Now_.”

Nicola couldn’t keep the anger from his voice. “And how,” he said, gritting his teeth, much to the delight of the fat fuck, “do you propose that we present this proof?” Truth be told, Nicola suspected what the Archbishop had in mind, but he had not pegged the loathsome pig for a pervert. Perhaps a glutton, but not a sleazy bastard.

“Why, Nicola,” said the Archbishop with the kind of self-assured grin that only someone certain of victory could have. Anger burned in Nicola’s veins. As if he would let the Archbishop win. “There is only one way to prove that you do love your wife-to-be. Lay with her. Here.”

“ _Arcivescovo!_ ” exclaimed Talia, jumping up from where she’d been sitting in silence the whole time. “Apologies for the intrusion,” she said, fanning herself, having the grace to go red in her face. “That is inappropriate!” she said.

“Surely,” said Talia, fighting the urge to glance at Nicola for support, “You of all people would know that coupling before marriage is a mortal sin! Would you have my husband despoil my virtue and besmirch his honour?” Nicola decided that Talia was doing a good enough job sounding scandalized that he did not need to interject. “I cannot believe what I am hearing!”

“Ah,” said the Archbishop, shaking his head from side to side in a patronizing way. Talia bristled inwardly at being treated like an ignorant wench. “But would you not agree, _signora_ Basilio, that you would rest easier in the knowledge that your husband is not a sinful deviant who would much rather stick the gift that God gave him to give you children into a man, instead.”

“Or perhaps, even worse, _he_ would like some other man to breach him as though he were a woman.” The Archbishop raised an eyebrow at Talia, and much to his credit, Nicola had to admit, he managed to strike her speechless.

“As I thought, _signora_ Basilio,” said the Archbishop, “I am sure that the Lord would be willing to overlook this transgression if I consent to it as a matter of providing proof of your relationship.”

Talia looked at Nicola and narrowed her eyes almost imperceptibly. They had not anticipated this eventuality, and neither of them wanted to do what the Archbishop wanted them to do. They sat there in contemplative silence for a minute before Nicola finally relented. “Very well, _Arcivescovo,_ ” said Nicola, “We will do it.”

Talia gasped in genuine surprise, though Nicola could tell that she made it seem like she was downright _shocked_. Just as Nicola was about to walk toward Talia, his eyes apologetic, one of the side-doors to the room opened. The old priest that Nicola and Talia had put on a show for earlier walked into the room, seemingly oblivious—engrossed in the thick book that he held in his hands.

The apologetic look on Nicola’s face turned incredulous. He struggled to keep the stupid grin he had inwardly from manifesting on his face. “ _Monsignor_ ,” said Nicola as the Archbishop frowned at the intrusion.

“ _Monsignor!_ ” Nicola called out to the elderly priest with a louder voice. “It seems you may have lost your way, _monsignor_ ,” said Nicola. The elderly priest jumped back in surprise at the sound of Nicola’s voice, dropping his book in the process.

“Ah, young man!” exclaimed the elderly priest, looking around the room in momentary confusion. He scratched the back of his head and laughed nervously. “It seems that I have,” he said.

The elderly priest stopped talking and quivered at the sight of the Archbishop seated behind his desk. “Apologies, _Arcivescovo_ ,” said the old man, “I did not mean to intrude your audience with these two fine young lovers.”

The Archbishop raised an eyebrow and inwardly, Nicola beamed with triumph. He had hoped the old man would say something about what they’d done earlier, and just like that, he had.

“No need for apologies, _monsignor_ ,” said the Archbishop, with a gentle smile that Nicola could tell was rather forced. “Though, if I may, allow me to ask one question. How did you know, _monsignor_ , that _signor_ di Angelo and _signora_ Basilio are lovers? Are you aware they are to be wed?”

The elderly priest had knelt down to pick up his book, but the moment that the Archbishop asked his question, his eyes lit up and he looked up. “Why, _Arcivescovo_ ,” said the elderly man, “is it not certain from the way that they look at and hold each other?”

The old man said the words with such a happy and hopeful smile that Nicola _almost_ felt bad for deceiving him. “Even if it were not,” said the elderly priest with a laugh; “Truth be told, _Arcivescovo,_ I caught the two of them on the brink of fornicating in one of the more secluded hallways of the convent after the mass.”

The Archbishop looked rather puzzled. He looked at the elderly priest and then at Nicola. He had been so sure that he had proven that Nicola was a deviant, but instead, contrary to the confession that he had received a few years past, this priest was saying that Nicola _was_ in fact in love with Talia.

The Archbishop looked at the elderly priest, then at Nicola, and back. He swept the coins off of his desk and into his robes. He held out the dispensation for Nicola. “For what it is worth, _signor_ di Angelo,” said the Archbishop begrudgingly; “Perhaps I was wrong about you. You are all dismissed.”

\----------

“Could you believe our fortune?” said Talia, as the heavy door to the Archbishop’s study closed behind them. “I still cannot,” she said, swatting Nicola’s shoulder with the back of her free hand, “Did I not tell you that our little ‘tryst’ in the convent was the perfect opportunity?”

“Yes, yes, Talia,” said Nicola, adjusting his clothing to look far more presentable now that the need for looking mussed-up had passed. “I know. You were right. However, that does not change the fact that you still owe me a debt for making me appear before the Archbishop like a dishevelled rat.”

Nicola almost pitched forward when Talia stopped walking. She was surprisingly strong. Perhaps stronger even than Nicola. He removed his arm from around hers and frowned.

Nicola turned to face Talia, but before he could say anything, she grabbed the lapel of his coat to straighten it. The Archbishop was passing by behind them. “You are a handsome man no matter how you look, Nicola di Angelo,” said Talia in the sweetest voice that was entirely dissonant with the knowing smirk she wore on her face.

When the Archbishop had passed, about half a minute later, Talia said to Nicola, “There is a reason that both men and women cannot help but look at you, after all,” said Talia, threading her hand through the crook of Nicola’s. She practically dragged him toward the nearest door.

Nicola shook his head and chuckled as he picked up the pace to walk beside Talia. “You are handsome as well, Talia,” he said, pushing open the door for her into a hallway that led outside. Talia growled at him playfully and punched him in the shoulder. “What?” said Nicola, “Is it not a compliment to call you handsome?”

“You offend Talia the lady,” said Talia, with a derisive snort that she managed to make rather dainty. “As for Talia, your friend, well, I find it _is_ a compliment to call me handsome. I’d have you know that.”

Nicola rolled his eyes as he and Talia strolled out into the stark daylight. They blinked in the light, having just been inside the church which was rather dark. “Nicola!” called out a familiar voice that accompanied a familiar bright smile and blue eyes.

Nicola froze in his track. William was the last person that Nicola had wanted to run into after all that he had had to endure thus far. “I haven’t seen you in quite a while!” said William rather enthusiastically. “I had not expected to see you here! I must admit, I’m rather lost. Where is the entrance to this damned place?”

Talia looked up at Nicola and saw the conflicted look in his eyes. She didn’t need to ask to know that that was the same look she had whenever she stared at Bianca. She didn’t need to ask to know that the blond was Nicola’s most recent conquest, and that Nicola had gotten mired a bit too deep.

Talia took it upon herself to direct William, for Nicola’s sake, as it seemed that Nicola had momentarily been robbed of the power of speech. “The front doors are down that way,” she said, pointing in the direction of the entrance. She turned her attention to William. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

William looked at Talia and tilted his head quizzically, as though he could not fathom why her arm was threaded through the crook of Nicola’s. “Pardon my manners, then, _signora_ ,” he said, eyes darting to the still-unresponsive Nicola. The words came warily to him. “My name is William Solace. Well met.”

Talia gently pinched Nicola’s arm, jolting Nicola from whatever stupor had rendered him momentarily stupid. “Oh, uh, William,” said Nicola, with a nervous smile. “This is Talia Basilio. She is my cousin.”

Talia curtsied to William and observed the way that William and Nicola looked at each other, their shared gaze growing more and more intense by the minute. She decided to break it up for Nicola’s sake. “I am also soon to be his wife,” said Talia, with a cold smile in William’s direction.

William staggered back as though the words had hit him like bricks. His mouth worked silently for the longest time. He simply could not quite process what had just been said. “Is this true?” whispered William, looking expectantly at Nicola.

Nicola looked at Talia and glared at her. She shrugged so subtly she was sure that only Nicola would have noticed it. William took that look as his answer. “Is this why you have been avoiding me for the last week, Nicola?” hissed William. “You should have told me about your engagement,” said William, his words terse and measured. “Congratulations to you both.”

William met Nicola’s eyes and averted his gaze almost instantly. He didn’t want Nicola to see the tears in his eyes. “Apologies,” said William, his voice breaking just slightly “I must leave.”

Talia watched William leave, steps stiff, shoulders slumped forward. At least now no one could say she hadn’t yet broken a man’s heart, she thought to herself. She was satisfied.

Nicola was less than impressed. He watched William’s retreating back in shock. “What on earth was that for?” he whispered, when he was sure William was far enough to not hear him.

“I can tell you are smitten with the young man,” said Talia, lifting her chin and looking forward. She was avoiding Nicola’s supremely-hurt eyes. “I don’t think I need to tell you how stupid you are for falling to someone like him. It’s a bad idea.”

\----------

“After what you did to William,” said Nicola, reclining in the shade of one of the most important trees to his childhood; “The last thing that I wanted to do was to go out to lunch with you, Talia.” Nicola patted his stomach, rather full from the sumptuous food that Talia had brought with her.

Nicola lay his back on the picnic blanket that had come with the basket that Talia had fetched from her home. “However, coming back here, you might have swayed me,” he said, with a laugh.

Talia shook her head and barked a laugh of her own. Nicola’s anger about William was bothering her. She was concerned that he was throwing away his life for one of his conquests. Nicola, on the other hand, could tell that Talia was perturbed. Before he could ask, however, Talia turned to him, “Would you at least listen to my advice, Nicola? As a friend for a friend? As a man for his wife-to-be?”

Nicola did not like where this was headed, and against his better judgement, he nodded. He could not deny her counsel for he’d often sought it in the past. She was often right, but the problem was that Nicola was also often bullheaded. “I understand what you might feel for the boy, but Nicola, this is a cutthroat world that we live in.”

“Would you not swear on the carving, Talia?” said Nicola, turning to the tree, and the deep gouges in its bark. The tree and the hill upon which it stood had been his favourite place to play when he had been a child. This was where he’d formed a bond with Talia, her brother Giasone, and their cousin Perseus, when Perseus had still lived in Milan.

Nicola was not Milanese. He was Venetian through and through, but whenever the school year ended and the summers came around, Ade di Angelo shipped him off to stay with his sister at the _palazzo_. Ade simply did not know how to deal with a rambunctious child, nor did he have the time to learn.

Talia sighed but she knew that Nicola would not be forthcoming unless she did as he asked. Their oaths of secrecy to the carving were sacred to them—Nicola, Talia, Giasone, and Perseus. “I have fallen in love with him,” said Nicola, after a silence that seemed to stretch on for an eternity.

“Do I need to tell you how you cannot possibly afford to do something so drastic and boneheaded as that? Need I remind you how many people would love to see you and your father laid low? My own father would be one of the vultures that would feast on your wealth when you’ve been torn down!”

Talia’s voice rose with each word that she spoke, and Nicola could not blame her for that. She was right, but he was also in love. “I understand that you have feelings, but the _Arcivescovo_ is watching you closely! Have you gone mad?”

“Talia, Talia,” said Nicola, both embarrassed, because Talia was right, and somewhat offended that she could so simply toss aside the affections of his heart. “The time for reticence has passed. I have made a mistake, and I have allowed myself to fall too far. I can only hope now that I can keep our secret safe.”

“Nicola di Angelo,” said Talia, the warning clear in her voice. He could tell that she wanted to put him in a headlock and press her knuckles to her skull, but she was exercising her restraint out of respect for him.

“You are one of the most bullheaded men that I know—perhaps one of the most bullheaded men that I will _ever_ know. I doubt I will ever be able to convince you to drop this madness, but know that if you intend to keep on this path of yours, it is _imperative_ that you keep your secret _safe_. _No matter the cost_.”

Silence was what followed, because Nicola knew what Talia was suggesting. If it came to that, William had to die, but Nicola knew that he could never bring himself to do that to William.

The quiet stretched. A tacit agreement to not speak further about the matter formed and matured in the air between Nicola and Talia, until Talia spoke and shattered the silence. “There is one more thing I must say,” said Talia; “Father would like the wedding to happen in a week. Giasone is returning from England then and he does not know when he might come back.”

\----------

Nicola had stripped off his coat and tossed it aside the moment he crossed the threshold of the _palazzo_. The servants, who were all paid well because of Ade’s views on slavery and Ade’s belief in the proper compensation of labour no matter how menial, were likely to gossip about the state he returned to the _palazzo_ , but Nicola was beyond caring. In fact, the only thing yet standing in the way of Nicola ripping his breeches off was his willpower.

God knew that he was _hot_. The morning and the early afternoon sun had been merciless. He had had a long day, and it wasn’t even near over yet. If anything, Nicola was thankful that Bianca absolutely forbade him from doing _any_ business on a Sunday as it was supposed to be a holy day.

Nicola climbed the staircase to the second storey of the _palazzo_. Along the way, his thoughts wandered to how his father had named the place the _palazzo di Angelo_. He’d thought it strange that his father had not named the estate after himself, though he supposed Ade simply wanted a home that his descendants could use through the passage of the years.

Nicola pushed open the door to Bianca’s study—the closest one to the second floor landing—and poked his head in. He had fully expected his sister to be there, doing her Sunday Bible studies, but instead the room was oddly empty.

Nicola stepped inside, though he kept the door ajar. He had wanted to find his sister to tell her the good news that Giasone, the man she would have married had she not tried to be a priest, was arriving in a week, and that he was to be wed no more than a day or two after that.

Nicola considered leaving, but he decided that he would wait for Bianca in her study. As though something called to him, he walked over to one of the bookshelves that lined the walls and traced his finger along the thick spines of the volumes that were kept there.

Nicola traced his finger down a particular spine. The _Biblioteca Graeca_. He pulled it from the shelf and flipped through its pages. He remembered reading this one. It was one of the most amusing books that he had ever come across.

It was filled with rather serious subject matter, but in Nicola’s opinion, one of the most ridiculous essays he’d ever read that had been written by a clergyman was in the compilation. It was an essay supposedly by Leo Allatius entitled “ _De Praeputio de Domini Nostri Jesu Christi Diatriba_.”

What Nicola found particularly funny was the argument that somehow, the Holy Foreskin had ascended with Christ on the day of his Ascension and had somehow wound up as the rings of the planet Saturn. Nicola was no scientist, but he was sure that was not the case. He had had a good laugh in the privacy of his room on the night he’d read the book years ago.

Nicola nearly jumped when he heard the door creak open. He snapped the book shut and replaced it on the shelf just as he saw Bianca enter the room, cane raised over her head in preparation to strike.

Bianca breathed a sigh of relief and set the makeshift weapon down by the door. “I thought a stranger had invaded my study, Nicola,” she said, shaking her head with a warm smile. “Don’t do that again,” she warned him; “How was the _Arcivescovo_?”

“As fat and greedy as ever,” said Nicola, his eyes wandering over the many tomes that formed Bianca’s personal library. He turned just in time to see his sister frown disapprovingly at his language. “Oh you know I am jesting, Bianca,” he said. She didn’t look convinced.

Nicola held out the rolled-up parchment that he held in his hands. It was sealed with the symbol of the Holy See and was about as legitimate as an order could get. “I have the Papal dispensation right here, Bianca,” he said, with a gentle smile that made Bianca’s eyes light up.

Bianca looked rather relieved to see the document in Nicola’s hands. Why she seemed so nervous—as though she had not expected the Archbishop to grant it to him—did not make much sense to Nicola. “I know you are not jesting, _mi tesoro_ ,” said Bianca, with a laugh; “I only wish you would speak of the _Arcivescovo_ with kinder terms, as misguided and eager-to-feast as he might be.”

It took all of Nicola’s will not to laugh at the way that Bianca described the Archbishop as misguided and eager-to-feast.

“I have other good news, Bianca,” said Nicola, walking up to his sister close enough so that they stood nose-to-nose, with Nicola silently cursing his less-than-impressive stature. “I am to be wed in a week,” he said, as a grin split Bianca’s face. “And Giasone is to be there, back from England.”

Bianca’s eyes lit up once more and she threw her arms around Nicola. If she could have squealed, Nicola was sure she would have. “Thank the Lord!” she exclaimed, spinning Nicola around with surprising strength. As Bianca was manhandling him, Nicola caught sight of an empty space in Bianca’s book collection, a gap where a book should have been, out of the corner of his eye.

Nicola did not have much time to think about it because Bianca grabbed his face and kissed him on either cheek. “ _Mi tesoro_ ,” said Bianca, grinning as though it were the happiest day of her life; “You are becoming a man!”

Nicola shook his head in good humour as she let him go and practically skipped to the still-ajar door. “Perhaps I shall meet someone to make a woman of me at your wedding,” she said, teasingly, as she clung to the door.

Nicola barked a good-natured laugh at his sister as she proceeded to run down the stairs to tell the livery of the _palazzo_ the good news. His eyes wandered back to the gap in Bianca’s book collection, and he had to wonder where the missing book was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooookay. Not gonna lie. This chapter is probably worth the wait. :3. This one was _amaaaaaazing_ to write. I wrote it with a little bit of CarpeDM's help. She was basically a trampoline I bounced my ideas off of. This is the result of that. :3.
> 
> *cackles evilly* So. I'd like to read what you think of this chapter! What do you think of the whole kerfuffle with the Archbishop? What about what happened with William and Talia? What do you think is going to happen next? And I sooooo dropped sooooo many clues in this chapter. But be warned. Some of them are red herrings and aren't really what you think they are. >:]
> 
> So, as always, leave a kudos if you like the story thus far, and leave me a comment if you'd like to make my day because those certainly always do. <3


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